Smokescreen
by Nylah
Summary: After a blow on the head, Danny has strange and dangerous power failures. Is he losing his ghost powers? Determined to find out what's wrong, he and his friends turn to Vlad. However, Danny has to deal with the mind shattering truth... alone. Pre PP.
1. Chapter 1

What if...

What if Danny has amnesia? No wait, overdone, what if _everybody else_ has amnesia except Danny? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. What if I find yet another way to mess with poor Danny? What if his very existence is at stake, what if everything he knows or thinks he knows will be put to the test?

What if everything seems normal?

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

I opened my eyes, blinked a few times and tried to see through the thick smoke that was all around me. Where was I? What had happened? How did I get here? Better yet, how did I get out of there! Coughing, I popped myself up on my elbows and rolled to the side. The floor was smooth and slippery, tiles of some sort. My eyes started watering from the smoke and my lungs were burning. My body was screaming for oxygen, but there just wasn't any around. Only one thing left to do.

Knowing it was very improbable that anybody would see me here, I let the two white rings engulf me, transforming me into the ghost I was. Immediately, I felt better. I didn't need to breathe as a ghost, so the smoke no longer bothered me. Flames, however, are just as hot intangible as they are when you have an actual body, so getting out of there was still my number one priority. Which way?

Up, I decided. Wherever I was, the building had to stop at some point. I don't know what the height is of the tallest building in the world, but it didn't stand in Amity Park. Fresh air. Up.

I drifted through the ceiling and immediately felt a breeze, blowing the smoke away from the building. Up was a good choice. I was now free of the building. Smoke still swirling around me, I looked down, at the parking lot in front of the mall. Hundreds of people were standing there, watching part of their favorite ways to pass time go up in smoke. In the distance, I heard sirens. If the fire department was still on their way, I couldn't have been out long.

I let myself drift sidewards, and it was then that I wondered if there was still anybody in the building. I looked down. Flames were erupting from the roof, huge and orange, reaching out for me as if reluctant to let me go. I got out of there in a hurry and landed a little bit away from the hot building. It was only the department store that was on fire, the rest of the mall seemed fine, and I assumed most people got out safely. There was no way to check, I'd perish in the flames.

"Danny!"

It took me a moment to realize that that was my name. For some reason, I felt foggy and weak. I turned around slowly and saw two teenagers running toward me, a girl wearing a black and green miniskirt and combat boots, and a black boy with a red beret on his head. Again, my brain had trouble connecting the dots.

"Sam and Tucker," I said, startled at my own voice.

I staggered and without wanting to transformed back to my human half. Sam rushed up to me and caught me before I fell.

"Are you OK?" she asked worriedly.

I grimaced at that question. Did I look OK to her?

"No," I snapped.

Carefully, she touched my head and I winced.

"You're bleeding," she said.

I brought my hand to my head to feel for myself and sure enough, something sticky was in my hair at the back of my head. That must be the reason I felt so out of it, I'd hit my head somehow. My knees buckled and Tucker grabbed my other arm.

"Let's get you home," he said.

I nodded and winced again. I was glad they were there. For the life of me I couldn't have found my own way home. We walked past the fire trucks where the firemen were already busy rolling out their hoses and roping off the area, pushing the crowd back. I was leaning on my friends and looked at the burning building in passing, knowing I could have still been in there if I hadn't woken up in time. I shivered.

"What happened?" I asked my friends.

"You don't know?" Tucker asked.

I shook my head, which was of course a bad mistake.

"I think I have a concussion," I said, trying to integrate the two Tuckers I was seeing into one.

"You were fighting a ghost," Sam said, "And then there was an explosion, and suddenly the place was on fire. You told us to run for it while you checked if there were any people left behind. We were very worried, Danny, when you didn't show up straight away."

I did feel a little better, so I let go of Tucker and leaned only on Sam, carefully placing my feet to match her stride. We had left the mall behind us, and were walking into the direction I presumed my house was, against the rush or people heading toward the mall to see the disaster. I still felt very disoriented.

"What ghost?" I asked.

Tucker shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, "I've never seen him before. He looked dark, a little bit like Johnnie's shadow, but more human shaped, if you know what I mean."

I didn't. Johnnie's shadow... My mind was swirling as images of different ghosts flew by, making me nauseous. And then it clicked.

"Johnnie 13?" I asked.

Tucker looked at me strangely.

"What's wrong, Danny?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know," I admitted, "Maybe I was hit a little harder than I thought. I can't seem to remember anything from today..."

Or yesterday. I frowned. We had come to the mall to do... what? Shopping, obviously. Ice cream? That was it. There was a new ice cream store in the mall, it had some new flavors we wanted to try out.

"Ice cream," I said, "Did we get any?"

Tucker and Sam looked at each other.

"That was yesterday, Danny," Tucker said, "Boy, you're really out of it, aren't you."

I sighed. I decided to let them take me home, glad that I was starting to recognize the neighborhood. Ten minutes later we finally entered my strange house. The instant we entered, my mother rushed toward me, seeing that I wasn't feeling very well.

"Danny! What happened! The mall..."

In the background, I could see the blazing flames coming out of the department store on the TV, a blond, grumpy looking reporter giving a live report on something that we could see for ourselves.

"He hit his head," Tucker said.

My mother took over after that. She had me lay down on the couch on my stomach, so she could examine the back of my head, muttering about how my hair was too long again and she couldn't see anything. She got me an icepack which I gratefully put on my head. Sam and Tucker sat down next to me to watch the TV.

"Tucker, Sam, call your parents, let them know you're alright," my mother said to them.

As they did so, a girl with long red hair came down the stairs. She stopped when she saw me laying on the couch with an icepack on my head.

"Danny!" she exclaimed, "What happened?"

"Hi Jazz," Sam said, putting down the phone, "He got hit on the head in the mall. Probably a concussion."

Jazz, of course, my sister. The fog in my head cleared a little. Genius sister. Very smart. Better stay away from her.

"Hi Jazz," I croaked from the couch, "I'm alright. Just a little shaken up, is all."

She frowned at me as if she didn't believe me, but didn't press the issue. Then my mother returned and said that she was going to take me to the hospital to have me checked out. I didn't really want to, afraid they were going to find out a lot more about me besides that I had a concussion, but there was no arguing with her. We dropped off Tucker at his house as there was no way he was going into a hospital willingly, but Sam insisted on coming along.

We had to wait for two whole hours before somebody had time to see us, and all that time we had been sitting in the waiting area between people with cuts and bruises or generally looking worse than I did. The fuzzy feeling never left me, and I was worrying a bit about school the next day, until I remembered it was Friday, not Thursday. I lost an entire day of my life. Finally, a nurse came to get us, and I followed her into the examination room. The doctor that came to see me, an elderly man with a bald head, confirmed that which I already knew: I had a concussion. The doctor questioned me, mainly testing if I still knew the day of the week.

"Friday," I said, wincing, "I mean, I don't remember it being Friday, last thing I remember was when we went to the mall on Thursday for ice cream."

"How old are you?" The doctor asked, scribbling something in a notebook laying in front of him.

"Fifteen. Almost sixteen"

"So you're in tenth grade, yes? You'll be a junior in September?"

"Yes."

"We'll keep him here overnight," he said, "Just as a precaution."

I didn't want to, and said so. By that time, they had cut my hair and had shaved part of the back of my head, put in some stitches and put an impressive bandage around my head. I didn't see why they would need me here.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" my mother asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Crappy," I said truthfully, "But I'd rather feel crappy in my own bed than in a hospital."

The doctor shrugged.

"Alright, have it your way. Mrs Fenton, wake him every two hours to see if he still responds normally. Come back tomorrow so we can check that cut on your head. No school for at least a week."

Well, at least that was something. My mother saw my face light up and frowned.

"I'm sure Sam will be able to get your homework for you, Danny," she said sweetly, "So you don't have to worry about missing something. Although I doubt it will make much of a difference these last weeks of school."

The happy feeling left me. No doubt Mr Lancer would try to pile so much homework onto me that by the time I got back to school, I'd be ahead instead of lagging behind. Then I wondered what to do about the ghosts. If I was incapacitated, they'd overrun the town...

Sam must have seen the worry on my face and interpreted it correctly. I marveled at that for a moment, before I realized she was talking to me.

"Don't worry about it, Danny," she said, emphasizing the word 'it', "Just rest, alright? We'll help you."

I guessed she was right, there was nothing I could do about it. I felt tired all of a sudden, and my eyes drooped as my head fell sideways. There were some alarmed shouts and people rushing around, so I opened my eyes again to tell them to be quiet, I was trying to get some sleep. Then a bright light shone into my eyes and the face of the doctor who had seen me before was really close by.

"Daniel, can you hear me?"

I blinked, once, twice, slowly. "Yes," I said, "I hear you."

My voice was monotone, and again I blinked. Then I snapped out of it.

"What?" I asked, irritably, "I'm just tired."

The doctor looked at my mother, who looked very worried. I decided that it was time to show them I was perfectly fine, so I stood up and steadied myself against the wall. Sam was at my side instantly and I leaned on her. She felt nice and warm, and I suddenly wondered why I had never asked her out. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, hesitantly. I wondered what it was that she saw in my smile, but the fact that she smiled at all gave me confidence. We went home and I was ordered into my bed immediately. Sam stayed for a little while, but then went home and I drifted off into a restless sleep.

And that was how it began.

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_Unusual: this story is finished. It consists of 22 draft chapters that need editing before I can put them up. Any excuse I come up with for not updating, I'm telling you beforehand, is invalid. Except for the one where I say I'm on vacation._

_This story takes place about halfway season three. Reviews, as always, are appreciated. I always reply to signed reviews.  
_

_And y__es, still working on 'Lost'. Don't hold your breath though._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: You may notice the shortness of some of the chapters. It's because I decided to throw out line breaks. Whenever I come to a point that sounds as a nice ending for a chapter, I just stop and put the next part in the next chapter (so writing 22 chapters isn't really that much of an achievement). See ya sometime next week, thanks for the reviews!

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

I still felt crappy in the morning. I was lying in my bed, on my stomach, my face in the pillow. I couldn't lay on my back, the cut on the back of my head was bothering me and the headache was still there. On top of that, every time I had managed to nod off, my mother had woken me to check if I still responded as I should. She asked me a couple of questions every time to wake me up good, and every time I had had a hard time getting back to sleep again. My ghost sense had gone off twice, but I had managed ignore it, hoping that it was only the Box Ghost or some other harmless being. I was in no shape to fight. Not even the Box Ghost.

At eight, my mother brought me some toast and a glass of orange juice, and I sat up in my bed to eat it. Of course my bed got littered with breadcrumbs, and it became very uncomfortable. I wanted to take a shower but I couldn't, because of the stitches and the bandages. I couldn't read because of the headache, and for the same reason couldn't watch TV. By the time it was nine o'clock, I was going crazy. I was just about to get up and go downstairs, when my mother entered the room and told me to get dressed. We were going back to the hospital so they could check me over.

It took me an unusual amount of effort to get dressed. I was dizzy, nauseous and disoriented, and for some reason I couldn't find my socks until my mother pointed them out to me – they were in a box at the bottom of the closet. I couldn't figure out what they were doing there and just stood there, staring at them.

"They're always there, Danny," my mother said, now looking worried again, "You put them there yourself, you hate it when they are in the drawer and get stuck all the time."

I did? For some reason, it bothered me. The box was an old shoe box, the lid was missing and it was just standing there, next to an old pair of sneakers. Socks should be in a drawer. My mother pulled at my arm and dragged me away.

"Come on, sweetie," she said, "You can worry about the socks later. We have an appointment with Doctor Carter at nine thirty, we'd better hurry."

I followed her out of the house to the GAV, and just as I was about to enter, my father stepped out of it. I bumped into him and it made my head spin.

"Watch it," I growled.

"Hey Danny," he said, somewhat taken aback by my grumpy outburst, "How's the head? I checked on you last night when I got home, but you were sleeping like a baby."

I looked at him and felt an unreasonable anger rise in me. I suppressed it. He was just worried. I had no reason to be angry with him. Other than the permanent embarrassment that he was to me. I forced my face into an apologetic smile.

"Alright," I said, "Just a headache."

I got into the car and strapped myself in, only to notice that my mother hadn't followed. I looked outside and saw her talking to my father, who was frowning. Then they both turned to look at me and I raised my eyebrows questionably. They were talking about me. A nervous smile appeared on my mother's face and she quickly got into the car.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing, sweetie, just... I had to ask your father something."

We drove in silence. The Saturday morning traffic was light and we arrived at the hospital in less than fifteen minutes, something that could take as long as an hour during rush hour. My mother helped me out of the car as I still was unsteady on my feet, and together we made our way to the doctor that had seen me the night before. He was sitting at his desk in his office, writing something down, and gestured to me that I should sit down on the examination table while he finished.

He did a number of tests, shone a light in my eyes, tested my reflexes and asked how I felt. Dizzy, I said, and a headache, but otherwise alright. He then looked at my mother, who looked worried.

"He seems so disoriented," she said, "He behaves... strangely."

Dr Carter sat down. "That's normal," he said, "He's had a severe blow on his head. I really wish he had stayed here so we could have kept an eye on him."

My mother shook her head. "I have no problem looking after him," she said, "But... I don't know. I don't know what it is. He forgot where he kept his socks. He just sits on his bed until I tell him to dress."

I stared at her. "I had a headache," I said dejectedly.

Dr Carter frowned. "Memory loss is not uncommon for a concussion. Tell me, Danny, do you remember what you did yesterday?"

I shook my head and winced. "I thought we went to the mall for ice cream," I said, "But that turned out to be the day before. I just remember waking up and there was a lot of smoke..."

I closed my mouth. I had better not get too detailed in my description of where I was at the time, or they'd want to know how I got out of there. I changed my story at the last moment.

"... coming from the department store. I must have fallen. Sam and Tucker brought me home."

The doctor hesitated, flipping his pen in his hand. Then he rolled his chair sideways to the computer and typed his password to get it off the screen saver.

"Just to be on the safe side I'll schedule him for an MRI," he said.

My mother looked relieved and I sighed. It probably meant a lot of waiting. I could think of better ways to spend a Saturday. Then I remembered that I was going to be home all day with nothing to do, and I started wishing we hadn't gone to the mall yesterday at all.

We indeed sat in the waiting room for over two hours before they could squeeze me in. I wasn't urgent, and a car crash on the highway produced two victims that took priority over me. They removed all metal objects, asked me if I had any pins in my body and then shoved me into the strange machine. It was very cramped in there, and I could hear the technicians talking, making jokes and every now and then telling my to lay still.

When it was done we had to wait some more before Dr Carter could see us again, which then took only five minutes. There was nothing wrong with my head. I should go home and rest. By that time I felt really tired again, just from the waiting. All in all, not a great way to spend a Saturday morning.

When we got home, my mother told me to lay down for a while and try to get some sleep, because I didn't look too good. I didn't want to, but complied, and I must have fallen asleep anyway because the next thing I knew I was waking up to someone gently touching my shoulder.

"Hey," Sam said, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

I tore myself from the depths of sleep and blinked a couple of times. Someone had closed the curtains, the room was shaded, and the only thing I could see well were her eyes. I gazed at her.

"Don't be," I said, "I love being awakened by you."

She blushed, and I wondered why until I saw a grinning Tucker in the room. I scowled good-naturedly at him and wished he would leave so I could continue my staring at Sam without being interrupted. Instead, Sam backed away and sat down at my desk, while Tucker let himself down at the bottom end of my bed. I sat up and hugged my knees, resting my chin on them.

"What's up?" I asked.

Sam shrugged. "You tell us," she said, "We've been hanging out at the Nasty Burger, but it isn't the same without you. What have you been up to this morning?"

So I told them about the MRI, a story that took up a whole of ten minutes. After that, we chatted about anything and everything, mostly about school and teachers and other students. Every now and then I fell silent as they said something that didn't make sense to me and I searched my head in confusion. Sam noticed.

"What's the matter, Danny, you're acting strange," she said.

"I-I don't know," I said, rubbing my face, "I have these... blanks in my head. I can see Paulina, and Dash, but not Mikey. I remember the auditorium, but not the cafeteria. I know Mr Lancer, but I forgot what we were doing in his class..."

"Danny, I forget what we're doing in his class the moment I step out of the classroom," Tucker said, "There's nothing strange about that."

I shook my head and wished the headache would go away. I had only been up for an hour or so, and already I was feeling tired again. I tried not to show it though, I didn't want them to leave. My mother, however decided for me. She came in, took one look at my face and ordered them out, saying they could come back the next day. I protested weakly, but in the end I was grateful. I laid down again and was asleep before they had left the house.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

The following week, of course, sucked. The headache subsided after a few days, and I was finally able to watch TV, sit behind my computer or do some of the assignments the teachers had prepared for me. Sam brought them to me, together with a pile of books from my locker and the notes she had taken in class. I was grateful that she did but that didn't make me like it.

Imagine my surprise when I found the assignments not difficult at all. They had gone easy on me, and for once I seemed to be getting a break. I finished them easily and quickly, and had Sam deliver them to the appropriate teachers on Friday. By that time, I was feeling a whole lot better, and I wasn't sleeping so much anymore. The ghosts, it seemed, were giving me a break too, because none of them showed up during the week, except for the Box Ghost. Sam and Tucker caught him. I hadn't used my ghost powers the entire week.

What I did do, much to my mother's surprise and dismay, was rearrange my closet. For some reason I couldn't stand the socks in the box, so I neatly placed them in a drawer. Then I arranged my shirts and jeans, neatly stacking them in an almost obsessive way. They were perfectly straight. When I was finished, I looked at the open closet for a while, feeling uneasy.

This was the way I had to do it. I knew that. But it hadn't been the way I had done it before. Before, I obviously hadn't cared. My room had been messy. I knew what it had looked like before. I knew I could be perfectly comfortable in a messy room. Instead, I cleaned it up, removed all the dirty laundry that somehow had ended up under my bed, neatly shelved all the books and emptied the trashcan. It was obsessive. It worried me.

As the resident self-proclaimed psychologist in the house, Jazz regarded my room and proceeded to question me about my motivations to clean it up. I couldn't give her a reason, other than that I felt I had to do it, or something bad would happen. She then lectured me on the subject of 'magical thinking', and told me that I was too old for that. I kicked her out of my room.

Sam came by after that, without Tucker this time, and I seized my chance. I had been thinking about it the whole week, but somehow hadn't quite gotten around working up the courage to do it. She was talking again, sitting on the chair at my desk, about school, the teachers' reactions to my homework – amazement – and how Tucker had found out that the 'meat surprise' at school actually contained less meat than her veggie burger. I smiled at that, silently snickering on the fact that it had taken him almost two years to figure that out, but kept staring at her, sitting at my desk like she usually did, gesturing and mimicking Tucker's expression. I was sitting on my bed, legs crossed, leaning my elbows on my knees and resting my chin on my right hand. Eventually she stopped talking and stared back.

"Danny, you're creeping me out," she said, "Why are you staring like that?"

"Um," I said, suddenly nervous again, "I was thinking, would you... I mean, my mom said I could go out tomorrow and I was wondering if you... if I... would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?"

She sat very still. "You mean... just the two of us? Like a date?"

Suddenly I was convinced it was a bad idea. I looked away and started rubbing the back of my neck. What had I been thinking? This was my best friend. Best friends don't go on dates, do they? It'd muddy the water, create all sorts of awkward situations, give meaning to things that didn't mean anything...

"Well, you know, I can understand if you don't want to, I mean it's weird because you're my best friend and all and maybe we shouldn't but I'd really like to and I thought we'd go to that new all vegetarian restaurant where Tucker won't go..."

"Danny..."

"... and everybody says we're love birds and we're not of course but sometimes I think... no, I don't really think that..."

My stream of words ended when Sam jumped up from the chair, took two steps and placed her hand over my mouth. I blinked and blushed.

"Danny," she said, "Shut up."

"Oh." I looked at the floor.

"And I'd love to."

My head shot up and almost collided with her chin. She was smiling and I started grinning like an idiot. I was just about to open my mouth to say something when a chill came over me, and that cold core that was my ghostly self produced a streak of mist from my mouth. Something was out there, something strong.

"Um," I said, "I'd better get that."

"You sure you're alright?" she asked, already reaching under my bed to retrieve a thermos.

"Sure. No problem. Going ghost!"

I rarely used that catch phrase anymore, but at that moment I was so happy it made me giddy. I reached inside of me and let the two rings appear, transforming me into Danny Phantom. The moment the transformation completed I shot up through the ceiling and into the air, hovered for a moment to get my bearings and then took off in the direction of the mayhem.

The ghost was easily found. It was a huge teddy bear, pink and glowing, and if it hadn't had those really sharp looking long claws it would have been cute. It was in the middle of the road, swaying a little, walking around and thrashing cars. Things got ugly pretty quickly after that. I saw it sweep a car sideways against a building and dove for it, turning it intangible at the last possible moment before it crashed against the wall. The car and its occupants – a family, man, woman and two small children – ended up inside the office building, standing between the desks and the shocked office workers.

"Sorry!" I shouted, and I rushed back to the pink menace.

Outside, it looked like a war zone. All the people had fled, thankfully, but several buildings had been damaged, and the cars were just piled up on one big heap near the end of the street. The huge teddy bear was sitting on top of it, looking around smugly. I don't know how I could tell the thing was smug, I mean, a teddy bear. But that's how it appeared to me. I hovered in front of him, wondering how to go about it. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Sam sneak up, trying to take cover behind a truck on its side along the curb.

"Hey!" I shouted, trying to make sure Teddy kept his eyes on me.

He turned and lashed out with his remarkably sharp paws. I ducked, managed to evade him and let out a massive ecto blast, hitting him straight in the fluffy chest. He squealed, and I felt dizzy for a moment. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all. No time to worry about that, however, because he swung at me again.

I evaded again, and blasted again. Sam came closer, holding the thermos. The teddy bear was huge and dangerous but also stupid, and I blasted him again a couple of times, each time feeling myself go weaker. I'd better end this soon, I thought, as I flung myself at him and blasted him from up close. He shrieked again and flew backwards, and that was when Sam caught him in the thermos. I hovered for a moment, and then let myself float to the ground. Dust was falling down, settling on the street, and it was strangely quiet. As soon as I hit the ground I stumbled forward, catching myself on a lamp post. I felt totally drained.

"Danny! Where are you!"

I heard her call out to me and looked up, trying to see something through the cloud of dust that was slowly dissipating. Her vague form came at me, and I called out to her, surprised at the weakness in my voice.

"There you are," she said, smiling, "What's the matter with you? Are you alright..."

She stopped and stared at me, looking down. "Danny..." she said, a horror struck expression on her face.

I didn't know what she was looking at, so I looked down also. Green ectoplasm at my feet. But as far as I could tell, I wasn't wounded. I blinked in confusion. Then, frowning, I concentrated, clenching my fists. The ectoplasm retreated, reentering my body, settling itself in its proper place again. I felt relieved.

"Wha... what was that," Sam whispered.

"I don't know," I said, "Maybe I am weaker than I thought. Or maybe it's from not using my ghost powers the whole week. I'm fine now."

I looked around and let the two rings transform me back to Danny Fenton. As soon as I did that, I felt better. I also started coughing from the dust. In the distance, I heard sirens.

"Here comes the cavalry," I joked, "Let's get out of here."

She agreed, and we quickly made our way through the rubble and car wrecks littering the streets. Police cars and ambulances approached, but since we obviously weren't wounded, they let us pass, the policemen shouting at us to clear the area, with which we happily complied. Sam had put the thermos in her spider backpack, and after making a quick detour to the park to get some ice cream from the ice cream vendor there, we sat down on a bench near the school, watching the sun set behind the high rises of the town.

"I'm beat," I said, casually stretching out and putting my arms on the back of the bench, thereby so happening to put one arm behind her back.

It was pleasant and relaxing, and I felt my aching muscles unwind. I was tired. I took a few deep breaths and moved closer to Sam. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but she didn't protest, instead smiling uncertainly at me. Was I moving too fast? I backed away a little.

"You don't look too good," she said.

I shrugged. "I'm just a little tired," I said, trying to forget that strange pool of ectoplasm that had formed at my feet, "Nothing to worry about."

And with those magical words, I pushed all thoughts about melting out of my mind.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Can't update before Thursday. Just so you know.

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

With the life I led and the things I faced almost every day, it was not surprising that I had my share of nightmares. They came in clusters, somehow. Thankfully, most of the time I was fine, like the one I had earlier that week about finding myself walking down the street with everybody laughing at me until I discover I'm still wearing my pajamas. That dream resulted in me checking myself over fifty times in the morning to make sure I was in fact wearing my jeans and t-shirt, but nothing worse.

Every now and then, however, I got these recurring dreams, nightmares about fighting a multitude of ghosts and losing, dying, losing friends and family, and my favorite, the fight against Pariah Dark, but this time, I get overrun by those skeleton ghosts. My temporary weakness with the ectoplasm triggered another nightmare that I'd had many times before, Vlad's clones, falling out of their pods, melting on the floor with their hands clawing, their eyes horror struck, begging for help that nobody could give them. Watching my own face turning into a puddle of green, bubbling ectoplasm, the haunted eyes melting last, was particularly unsettling. I woke up with a scream that brought my whole family rushing to my room.

"Danny!" my father bellowed, bursting through the door wielding a huge ecto cannon, "Where's the ghost!"

Before I could say anything he had pulled the trigger, blasting a huge hole in the wall, connecting my room to Jazz's. She and I both glared at him and he looked sheepish. My mother pushed him aside and viewed the mess.

"Well," she said, "We did need to redecorate anyway." She turned to me. "Are you alright? Why did you scream?"

She looked slightly ridiculous, wearing her nightgown combined with the goggles on her head, holding a smaller ecto gun in her hands. I shivered and drew my blankets closer.

"It's nothing, mom," I said, ignoring my father, "Just a bad dream."

"Was it a ghost dream?" my father asked.

Now thoroughly annoyed, I said, "No, dad, there were no ghosts in my dream."

My father lowered the gun and looked slightly taken aback. Then, his face brightened.

"Well," he said, "Since we're all awake, how about some fudge?"

Without waiting for an answer, he thundered down the stairs to the kitchen. I watched him leave, suddenly overwhelmed by an unreasonable anger at the man. He was making my life difficult. He was always blundering about, embarrassing me, making the kids at school tease me about him. I wished he could be normal, less loud, less oblivious to the world and the way it worked, a bit more like...

My mind came to a screeching halt. I was not thinking this. He was my father. When I was little, I must have wanted to grow up just like him, running around in a little orange jump suit, pointing sticks at my stuffed animals and shooting ghosts. When had I stopped wanting that? Why did his very presence make me feel... disappointed?

My mother had left the room after him, after making sure the hole in the wall hadn't done any structural damage to the house that would make it unsafe to sleep here. Jazz was grumbling to herself as she returned to her own room and started clearing the debris from her bed. I'd have to talk to her, I decided, ask her how she dealt with our father. She had been feeling embarrassed about him longer than I had.

I laid down in my bed again and, after yelling at Jazz to be quiet in her cleaning, managed to go to sleep again. The nightmare returned three more times that night.

Saturday morning came and went, and when I finally woke up it was already past one o'clock. I sort of rolled out of my bed, staggered to the bathroom studied my reflection in the mirror. Apart from the bloodshot eyes, I looked fine. Better than I usually did. Yawning and stretching I descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen, to find Sam and Tucker sitting at the kitchen table, listening to my dad talking about ghosts with a bored expression on their faces. Sam spotted me first and her eyes lit up. Then she blushed. I blinked at her and then realized I was still wearing only the boxers and t-shirt I slept in. Tucker started grinning.

"Man," he said, "You look like a zombie. Your dad wouldn't let us wake you, said you were having nightmares and didn't sleep too well."

Thank you dad. I really needed you to tell all the intimate details of my life to my friends. I glared at him and decided that since Sam had already seen me like this and I was hungry, there was no point in rushing back upstairs to change into something decent. I opened the fridge, grabbed some of the leftover spaghetti my mother had made the night before and sat down at the table with it.

"Gross," Sam said, "Are you gonna eat that? Cold?"

"Sure." I grabbed a fork and started twirling the spaghetti. "It's not often I get to actually eat breakfast."

"Lunch," Tucker said.

"Whatever."

When I finished, they ordered me upstairs to get dressed, so I did. Tucker started his usual rude remarks about Sam joining me in the shower and Sam smacked him. I surprised them both by laughing at the remark, and then telling Tucker we had a date that evening. The look on his face was priceless, and he actually shut up for a whole of ten seconds before verbally attacking Sam with questions. I fled into the bathroom.

We spent what remained of the day in the mall, playing games at the arcade, again checking out the new ice cream parlor and trying to peer through the fenced off hallway that led to the burnt down department store. It didn't look very interesting, but it did give me the shivers. Everything looked black and scorched, and I realized that if I hadn't woken up when I did, I'd have perished in the flames or died from smoke inhalation. I'd been lucky.

"What ghost was I fighting, anyway?" I asked my friends, leaning against the wall, licking my ice cream cone.

"You still don't remember?" Sam asked, "I'm not sure. It was some sort of black shadow with red eyes. Not big. About the same size you are, with a tail for legs. He wasn't very strong, but his blasts set the store on fire and he managed to hit you twice. After that, it was all smoke and everybody rushed out. I was really glad to see you get clear of the building."

"Did we catch that ghost?"

Tucker shook his head. "We didn't. Neither did you, your thermos was empty."

"So it just left?"

"Yup. And we haven't seen it since."

"Weird."

For some reason, the description of the ghost gave me an uneasy feeling. Like I should know it. I searched my head for the ghosts I knew.

"Was it Johnnie's shadow?" I asked.

Sam and Tucker both shook their heads. "No," Sam said, "It definitely wasn't him. It looked a little like it could be _your_ shadow."

I sighed and decided to put it out of my mind. After all, the ghost hadn't shown up again. I should be grateful for that. After we finished our ice cream we hung around the mall some more, and Tucker dragged us to a computer store in which he proceeded to instruct the salesman on the proper way to install the operating system. Sam and me hid in the isle next to them between the printers and had a great time mimicking the exchange going on next to us, the poor salesmen looking more desperate by the minute. Finally, we decided to rescue him and dragged Tucker out of the store while he was still shouting out his frustration on the matter.

All in all, it was a pleasant, normal day.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Dinner was nice. Being alone with Sam was rare, usually it was the three of us grabbing a bite at the Nasty Burger before seeing a movie or something. But now we were at an actual restaurant, and the both of us had made an effort to look nice. I wasn't wearing my normal jeans and t-shirt, but black dress pants and a blue, short sleeved shirt. Sam had changed into a black skirt, black fish net stockings and a purple corset that looked very tight. Her arms were covered in some fish net vest. She was still wearing her combat boots. Her whole appearance screamed 'goth'. People stared. I smiled.

We chatted amiably over dinner, and my slight worry that it would somehow be awkward without Tucker to ease the tension was totally unfounded. I was totally at ease, and she seemed at ease also. Maybe it was because I had finally decided to make a move on her. When that thought hit me I froze, my fork halfway up to my mouth. I looked at her sparkling eyes with the heavy eye liner, the black lipstick on her lips and the purposefully pale face and thought she was beautiful.

"Danny, you're drooling," Sam said.

I hastily put the piece of salad on my fork in my mouth and immediately started choking. Tears sprang in my eyes and Sam got up to pat me on the back. It didn't help but I was grateful anyway. People were staring at us.

"Sam," I coughed, "Sit down, people are staring..."

"Who cares." She sat down anyway. "Are you alright? What was that all about?"

"I'm fine." I coughed some more and then laughed a little. "I was just thinking how beautiful you looked."

There, I said it. A little shocked at my own words, I reddened. Sam blinked and blushed and then looked down at her plate. I waited, somehow holding my breath while still slightly choking on the piece of salad that had gone the wrong way.

"I'm... that's really nice of you to say, Danny," she said, "What's gotten into you? You're not normally so..."

No, I wasn't. Clueless was my name. I knew that, but for some reason I no longer felt the need to hold back or the fear that she wouldn't like me back. Whatever happened, happened. This was what I wanted.

"Sam," I said hoarsely, "I really like you, and I was hoping... you'd like me too."

I felt my self tense. There was no going back now. She could smile a reserved smile and say she liked me too, but not that way, and that the only thing she felt for me was friendship. And we'd go on being friends, but there would be awkward silences and she would try and stay away from me, try not to encourage me by always placing Tucker between us. And then Tucker would be awkward too, feeling that there was something going on and he was being used as a buffer. Eventually, we wouldn't be able to take the tension anymore and we would break up, the tree of us, and our unbreakable bond would be broken. Whatever had gotten into me that I risked all that?

She smiled. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you to say that," she said.

The rest of the evening, we were way up in the clouds. Literally, in the end. After we left the restaurant, we ducked into an alley and I transformed into Danny Phantom. I grabbed a hold of her and lifted her up, higher and higher until we could see the whole of Amity Park. The lights of the town made it look like a haven in a sea of darkness of the woods surrounding it. We went up even higher, through the clouds and then above the clouds. It wasn't quite dark yet, the sky in the west was still not completely dark, but we could see the first stars. I pulled her close.

"I think I love you," I whispered in her ear.

"You think?"

In the distance, I could see the faint lights of an airplane. It was getting darker by the minute, and more and more stars came into view, lighting the clouds and giving it a fairy tale glow. It was magical. I was utterly, totally happy. Still holding her tightly, I bend my head a little and kissed her.

"I know," I muttered against he lips.

I wanted to kiss her some more, but suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over me. In an instant, we were descending rather quickly. Sam let out a small yelp and I felt my power drain away from me. We were falling faster and faster, through the clouds, and I tried frantically to stop our decent. I did manage to slow us down somewhat, and stared wide eyed at the ground which was coming up really fast now.

"Danny!" Sam yelled, "What are you doing!"

I was falling. I was weak. I groaned, and tried to pull up, tried to reach for the energy that I needed. There was almost nothing left. Clenching my teeth, I pulled her into a crushing hug, holding on to her and shutting my eyes as not to see the terrifying speed at which we were falling to our deaths. The worst part of it was that I wasn't sure I would die from the impact. I had fallen from the sky often, or crashed into buildings, and always had survived with only a few scratches or, in one case, a broken rib. Sam however...

She couldn't die. Not because of me. I started screaming with her, straining myself, desperately gathering energy from within me. Stop, I thought, stop. Up. The world vanished, the thundering of the air rushing past me as we fell with terminal velocity towards the ground turned into a strange silence. For a moment, I saw stars, bright blotches in front of my eyes. Sam had stopped screaming. We touched the ground. Softly.

As soon as I realized we were down on the ground and still in one piece I let go of her. I stumbled backwards, hit my back against something hard and slumped down on the ground. In an instant, I felt the two white rings pass over my body, and as soon as the transformation was completed, I started gasping for air.

"Danny!"

Her hands were on me, on my shoulders, shaking me. Another wave of nausea passed over me and I quickly turned away from her to vomit, unable to stop until there was nothing left in my stomach. Sam's hand was on my back, helplessly patting it. I leaned backwards, and finally opened my eyes. She looked at me with big, worried eyes.

"Are you... alright?" She laughed a little. "Sorry."

I shook my head and pushed myself up against the wall. She quickly stepped forward and supported me. Together, we staggered away, and it was only then that I noticed we were on top of an apartment building, and I had been sitting with my back against a structure on the roof that housed the engine room of the elevator. Sam led me to a door on the other side of it. It was locked.

"Give me a minute," I gasped, "I'll phase us through."

I sat down on the floor again, resting my back against the door. Sam hesitated, and then sat down next to me, shivering a little. I lifted my arm and she snuggled up next to me. I held her close, and tried to push away the thought that I was losing power somehow.

"Danny," Sam said. Her head was against my shoulder, so I couldn't see her face. "You were... melting." She sounded horrified. "You were screaming and your face... your face turned all distorted like... like some wax statue being overheated."

I really didn't want to think about it. I remembered the nightmare I had the night before. The melting clones. Today's experience almost guaranteed I would have that nightmare again. I didn't answer her, but instead stared ahead at the collection of pipes and chimneys on the roof. Slowly, I felt a little of my strength return, so I sat up a little straighter. Sam noticed me move and looked up at my face.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better."

I struggled to my feet and leaned against he wall. Then, I grabbed her hand and turned us both intangible. We passed through the door into a narrow hallway, which ended in stairs going down. By the time we had walked down two stories and then taken the elevator for thirteen, I was thoroughly trashed.

"Come on," Sam said, "I'll take you home."

"That is supposed to me my job," I said weakly.

"You're in no condition for chivalry, Danny, and besides, it's wasted on me anyway."

"Nothing is ever wasted on you," I muttered.

So we walked to my house, chatting lightly, studiously avoiding the subject of my sudden power failure. Sam had to support me for a while, but as we neared my home I let go of her, not wanting my parents to see how tired I was. They'd sent me to the hospital again. I wondered if being knocked on the head could affect ghost powers.

"Hi dad," I said, entering the kitchen, closely followed by Sam, "We're, um, just gonna grab some sodas and go in my room."

"Sure, son," my father said happily, looking almost cross eyed at a piece of equipment in which I recognized the remains of the remote control of the TV.

Annoyed, I opened the refrigerator and got the sodas, and then Sam pushed me out of the kitchen, giving me a strange look. I wondered why, until I realized I was glaring at my father. Quickly, I looked away and rushed up the stairs as fast as I could, which, in my condition, wasn't very fast. Once in my room, I dropped on my bed, closed my eyes and held a cool soda can against my forehead. Sam took the other one from my hands and sat down next to me. A soft click and a hiss told me that she had opened hers.

"Are you gonna talk about it?" she asked.

"About what?" I didn't open my eyes, but just let the fuzzy, soft feeling laying on my bed always gave me take over.

"Don't do this to me, Danny."

"Do what?"

"What you're doing now. Shutting me out. Gosh, we were just... what's the matter with you? Why won't you talk to me all of a sudden? Don't you think it's a little bit important that you seem to be losing power? Shouldn't we look into this?"

I opened my eyes and felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," I said, "It's just that this stuff gives me nightmares. I try not to think about it."

"Not thinking about it won't make it go away."

"I know." Why did she always have to be so sensible. She was worse than my sister. "It's probably an after effect from the concussion. Not much to worry about."

"I'm being serious, Danny, and I do worry," she said, "Look at you. You're completely wiped out."

I popped up on one arm and opened my soda. I did feel rather tired, my eyes seemed to be wanting to close all the time. I would love to just lay back and sink into oblivion, but that'd also mean that A) Sam would leave and B) I'd have another nightmare. So I struggled to keep my eyes open and took a sip.

"I'm a bit tired," I admitted, "Ow!"

She had punched me in the arm. I mock glared at her.

"OK, what do you suggest we do?" I asked, "It's not like I can go to a doctor with this, you know."

She sighed. "Maybe we could ask another ghost," she said, "How about Clockwork?"

"Clockwork only helps if it suits him," I said.

"Couldn't hurt."

She was right, again. I struggled some more against the overwhelming tiredness, but finally let myself fall back on the bed.

"OK, this sucks," I said, "I need to sleep. Are you alright on your own?"

"Sure. It's only nine o'clock, I don't need to be home until eleven."

"I'm no fun. You should just go home," I mumbled, and then, after another thought struck me, "Maybe we should ask Vlad."

Suddenly I was convinced. Vlad would know what was happening. I would go visit him in the morning. I didn't hear Sam's answer as I finally let oblivion take me.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

The next day Sam repeated to me what she had apparently said the night before when I fell asleep on her: "No freakin' way."

I argued with her and Tucker, seated on my bed, my hair still damp from the shower I had taken just minutes before the two of them had entered my room. Sam had sat down next to me, and I had possessively wrapped my arm around her shoulders, earning me a gleeful smile from Tucker, who didn't waste any time in taking out his phone to take a picture of us. I was just about to demonstratively kiss my new girlfriend when she pushed me away.

"Don't try to change the subject, Danny," she said, "There's something wrong with you and the last person we need to see is Vlad."

"But it makes sense," I argued, feeling completely rested and perfectly fine again, although a bit disappointed at her pushing me away. I rubbed my arm again, the arm Sam had hit the night before. A dark bruise had formed. She must have hit me harder than I thought. I made a mental note to stay on her good side.

"He's a half ghost too," I added, "He'd know about problems with ghost powers after a concussion, wouldn't he?"

"Even if he did know, what makes you think he'll tell you?" Tucker asked, looking at us with a frown on his face as if he couldn't figure us out. "He's your archenemy, remember? He'll just sit back and enjoy watching you melt."

I did not need that mental image, so I scowled at him. My sleep had been deep and no nightmares had haunted me that night, thankfully, and I wanted to keep it that way. Vlad wasn't that bad, was he? Didn't he want me to join him, to be his apprentice? Surely he wouldn't want me sick or weak? I told my friends what I thought and saw the doubt in their eyes.

"No, Danny, let's go see Clockwork," Sam said, "We don't want to go looking for trouble, and going to see that fruit loop definitely qualifies as trouble."

I felt a twinge of annoyance at that remark, but managed to keep the emotion away from my face. I was getting rather good at that lately. Shrugging, I got up from my bed and straightened it to remove the wrinkles in the covers where I had sat. Both Sam and Tucker stared at me.

"What?"

"Nothing, man," Tucker said hastily, "It's just... never mind."

I could see that there was something wrong, but couldn't for the life of me think what it was, so I let it rest. I surveyed my room, making sure that everything was in its proper place, before turning back to my friends.

"Alright. Let's go see Clockwork."

Without waiting for them, I casually let myself sink through the floor all the way to the basement. My parents weren't home, so this was a perfectly safe means of transportation. I solidified in the middle of the lab-turned-basement and glanced around so see if there was anything new. I hadn't been down there in a week.

The door to the weapons vault was slightly ajar and I frowned at that. My father had been careless again. Didn't he know ghosts would love to get in there and destroy the crude and bulky yet amazingly effective ghost weaponry we had stored in there? I walked over to it and closed the heavy door with a soft clunk, then gave the combination lock a spin and checked the ghost shield by turning my hand intangible and trying to phase it into the vault. A few sparks and a sharp pain in my hand told me it was working.

I heard voices and footsteps on the stairs, so I quickly went over to the Specter Speeder to see if it was operational. My father sometimes felt the need to randomly pull out essential parts of it if he needed it for something he was working on. Much like he used our ghost shield to create the Specter Deflector, thereby making our house vulnerable for ghost attacks. The floating vehicle seemed to be in perfect working order though.

"Hey," Sam said upon entering the basement, "Is it working? Can we use it?"

"Looks fine," I said.

I opened the hatch and climbed inside. Then I hesitated. The strange feeling of disorientation washed over me again, a feeling I had thought gone since the day after the 'accident'. Again, I felt out of place, like I'd never been there before. I just stood in the entrance, looking around, taking in the interior of the thing.

Two seats in the front, each having its own controls. The 'pilot' and 'co-pilot'. A spacious looking compartment behind that, in which I was now standing, with some seats attached to the bulkhead. A large number of screens, dials and meters, accompanied by so many switches I thought even the space shuttle wouldn't have that much. Someone pushed me.

"Move over," Sam said, "I'm driving."

Grateful for that, I sat down next to her in the front, leaving Tucker to sit on one of the smaller seats in the back. He grumbled something unintelligible, but didn't complain too much. He closed the hatch while Sam started to press buttons, starting the engine, the ecto-navigation system – according to the small letters under the screen – and a great number of other undoubtedly useful equipment which didn't mean anything to me. She obviously knew what she was doing though, and I didn't ask her to explain what she was doing, afraid it was something I should have known. There was this huge blank in my head concerning the Specter Speeder. She'd be even more worried.

I shook myself out of my musings when I felt a slight jolt. We were moving forward. Sam pressed another button and the doors to the ghost zone opened right before we would have hit them. Then we entered the zone and everything fell into place.

Without even consciously reaching for it, the two white rings appeared around my waist, and I sighed in contentment as the cold feeling washed over me, making breathing superfluous. As always, when I was in the zone, I felt both at home and threatened. This was the place where ghosts dwelt, and I was, in essence, a ghost. It was the core of my being, never ignored, even though it sometimes scared me. The power of the zone easily sipped into the Specter Speeder, despite the counter-measures my parents had tried to install on it. I could still easily phase through the structure.

"Danny, are you sure you should be using your powers?" Sam asked, "At least, until we know what's wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," I said, "I'm fine."

To prove my point, I phased out of the Specter Speeder and flew a few circles around the speeding vehicle. It was going at an impressive speed, but I was still faster. I laughed, swirling and twirling through the green nothingness, holding out my hands and letting out small trails of ectoplasm, causing a spiraling trail. Then I flew back to the front of the Specter Speeder and flew backwards, waving at Sam and Tucker, who had taken my place in the front. Sam scowled at me. I slowed down a little and phased through the front windscreen.

"See?" I said.

"OK, mister hotshot ghost boy," Sam said, trying to sound reproachful but unable to hide her smile, "Now kindly guide us to Clockwork's lair."

The matter of my dysfunctional powers seemed academic to me now, as I obviously was fine, but I mock saluted her and phased back out into the ghost zone. I flew in front of them, avoiding the more dangerous parts of the ghost zone with ease by taking a few detours, and it took us less than an hour to arrive at the castle-like construction that was Clockwork's place. I landed in front of the huge door and waited for Sam and Tucker to get out of the Specter Speeder. They walked up to me, and the three of us stared at the forbidding looking door.

"Now what?" Sam asked.

"How about we knock?" Tucker asked, proceeding to do just that. He raised his hand and attempted to pound on the door, only to have his fist go right through. "Right," he said.

I rolled my eyes, transformed back human and grabbed my friends' arms to pull them straight through the door. Once inside, I quickly transformed back into Danny Phantom again, wanting to be prepared. Clockwork was an enigma. He'd helped me before. With just as much ease he'd kill me, if that would somehow ensure a better future.

The room we were in was huge. It was like we were inside some sort of huge mechanism, with enormous gears and hourglasses and dials with hands going backwards. Mirror like round screens, with some swirling fog in it on one side. A number of watches on a chain hanging on the other side. Tucker walked over to them and quickly grabbed three.

"Just in case," he muttered.

The sound of clocks ticking at an uneven pace was the only thing we heard. I hovered next to my friends, unsure of what to do. This was where the ghost of time was supposed to be, but the place seemed completely devoid of any ghost, time obsessed or other.

"Um," I said, getting more nervous by the second, "Maybe we should go."

"Nonsense," Sam said, "CLOCKWORK!"

Tucker and I both jumped, or he jumped and I sort of jerked in mid-air.

"Sam!" I hissed, "Don't do that! If we want to ask him something, we should at least do it nicely!"

I couldn't shake the feeling somebody was watching us, and Tucker seemed to feel the same way, because he too was looking over his shoulder. But there was nobody there. It was just us and the swirling mirrors.

I floated closer to them and stared, trying to discern something in the fog. I knew this was where Clockwork could see things, the future, the present and even the past. But he wasn't here, and the mirror was... changing?

The fog started swirling more violently, and then receded, somehow settling itself into shapes, first gray, but then more colorful. I could see figures, people moving about, soundlessly talking and laughing and making their way through a department store. I felt Sam and Tucker's presence next to me, and was just about to turn to them and ask them what they thought of it when Sam exclaimed, "Look! It's us!"

She pointed, and she was right. The three of us were standing at the game section, talking, laughing and pointing. I leaned forward. I didn't remember this.

"It's the day of the fire," Tucker said, "We were right there when the ghost fight started..."

The words had hardly left his mouth when I saw the me on the screen stiffen, and then discreetly look around. About two seconds later Sam and Tucker seemed to notice something was up, because they too started looking around. Sam took off her backpack and started feeling around in it, probably for the thermos, while Tucker took out his phone.

"What were you doing?" I asked him, "Who were you gonna call? The Ghost Busters?"

Tucker laughed and pointed. "Pictures," he said.

Indeed Tucker was holding up his phone, scanning the area. I blinked.

"You have pictures of that ghost who attacked?"

Tucker shook his head. "Nope," he said, "Watch."

Out of nowhere, a black blur dashed through the scene on the screen, crashing into me and knocking the phone out of Tucker's hands. I was knocked to the floor, while Tucker staggered backwards and bumped into the stand with Nintendo games, causing it to wobble. Then a whole bunch of game cases fell out and buried him.

Sam, meanwhile, yanked the thermos out of her bag, opened it and attempted to aim it at the black ghost, but it was too quick and it evaded the blue beam easily. It turned, held up it's hands and blasted a book stand nearby, which started burning immediately from the intense heat of the ecto beam. I clambered to my feet and looked around frantically to see if somebody saw me. Black smoke started to fill the department store as the fire spread quickly, and the other people in the store, who until then had only been looking around curiously to see where all the noise came from, started screaming and running. I saw my face get a determined look on it before I dove behind a rack of CD's on sale. A bright flash later I came back out, now hovering as Danny Phantom, shouting something. Probably a taunt to the ghost setting the store on fire.

It worked, too. The black ghost, now no more than a shadow and almost invisible due to all the smoke, turned its attention back to me. He let out another ecto blast, and to my surprise, he seemed to lose form for a moment. I put up a defensive shield, and the blast was redirected into the ceiling, where it caused a shower of sparks. Then the lights went out, and the only reason we could still see something was because of the emergency lights near the exit of the department store. I let out a blast of my own and hit the black ghost square in the chest, causing him to reel backwards. Then I turned and said something to my friends, probably urging them out of the store. They seemed to argue for a bit, but they were coughing violently and pretty soon saw my point, that since they needed to breathe and I didn't they should get out of there. They left, and the view on the screen suddenly zoomed in on my face, bearing an expression of both anger and near panic. I started moving around through the smoke, searching the store. I dove forward suddenly, picking up something from the floor, and I saw it was a young woman, overcome by the smoke. I carried her out into the hallway, where she regained consciousness. I urged her out and rushed back into the store.

I repeated this several times, each time going back in, finding somebody trying to make his or her way out of there but failing, and each time the smoke got thicker, until I couldn't see anything further than few feet away from me. An orange glow to the right depicted where the fire was, and I could see I was trying to stay away from it as I made my way through the place, waving my hands in front of my face in a futile attempt to clear the air.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a black shape appeared behind me. I shouted a warning at myself on the screen, which was of course completely useless. The thing hit me from behind, and I fell forward, my glowing green eyes glazing over. I crashed to the floor and the two white rings appeared, transforming me into my vulnerable human form. Sam gasped and her hand shot to her mouth. We stared at my unmoving form on the floor. Then I turned away.

"Well," I said, "That was pretty useless."

"How did you get out of there?" Sam asked.

I shrugged. "I woke up, transformed back into Phantom and phased through the roof. That's it."

"What's that?"

Tucker shook my arm and I turned around to look at the screen again, now showing only black smoke and a vague dark form laying on the white floor. And there was movement. A figure approached through the smoke, hardly discernible, but with a familiar shape. He didn't try to hide his presence, but casually strolled through the burning store like he owned the place, which, come to think of it, he probably did. He bend over my unmoving body and seemed to study it for a moment. Then he disappeared, only to come back moments later. This time, he didn't stop, but grabbed my legs and started dragging me over the floor, leaving a dark red trail. I winced and felt the back of my head, where the uneven skin of the new scar was hidden under my hair. On screen, I disappeared from sight.

"See?" I said, "We need to go see Vlad." I ignored Sam's scowl and looked around. "What time is it anyway?"

* * *

_Alright, go on, say it. You completely chickened out on putting Clockwork in here! Actually, I was writing a similar scene for 'Lost' at the time and I'd had enough of him. Live with it :)  
_


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Very short chapter. I'll be posting chapter 8 later today. I think.

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

We made it back to the basement mostly unscratched, although we did need to evade Walker's goons when we accidentally came too close to his prison. I had no intention of getting myself locked up in there, so we left in a hurry, in the end losing them by simply hiding in Skulker's lair. That sounded more risky than it was, because the ghost in the metal suit wasn't there. He did have an interesting collection of ghosts in cages, and since we, meaning Sam, were feeling charitable and more than a little grossed out by the human shaped empty spot on the wall in his bedroom, we decided to help him by setting them free. It earned me a smile from Sam and a bite in the arm from one of the furry green balls with legs. It was worth it.

I was surprised to find how much time had passed when we were in the ghost zone, and was very suspicious of the ghost of time. There was no way it could already be seven o'clock in the evening. Luckily, my parents still weren't home, so they hadn't missed us or the Specter Speeder. Jazz was there though, but her opinion was easily discarded. She wouldn't tell, and that was all that mattered.

The four of us decided to order pizza, and we ate it in my room, sprawled on the floor between the half empty pizza boxes, school books and notebooks. To my dismay, Sam told Jazz about my little mishap with my powers the night before, and she immediately went into the overprotective sister mode. I argued with her for a few minutes the way only siblings can, repeating our own point of view without listening to the other, until I found out she actually agreed with me on seeing Vlad, at which point I made a 180 degree switch and agreed with everything she said.

Sam and Tucker watched the whole discussion with a look on their face that mostly betrayed their relief that they both were an only child. The argument seemed settled, now that Jazz was backing me up. She left my room, saying she had homework to do and pointedly looked at the books on the floor. We waved her goodbye and then proceeded to copy each other's homework like we usually did. Then Sam and I managed to convince Tucker he needed to be elsewhere and he left.

"Do you think he suspects something?" I asked Sam as she sat down next to me on the floor.

She grinned. "Who cares," she said.

She was studying me, her head slightly tilted to one side, a slightly surprised expression on her face. Then she reached out and felt my upper arm. I blinked at her in surprise, wondering if she had seen the nasty bruise she had caused the day before.

"What?" I asked.

Her smile broadened. "You look strong" she said.

"Huh?" I said, glancing down at my arms, not seeing anything unusual, "How so?"

"I don't know. You were always so thin and now... now you're not."

"Must be all the fighting I do," I said.

I wondered, though. Her remark triggered a vague memory, a weight room, a punching bag, a treadmill... That couldn't be true. I knew for a fact that I'd never set a foot in a gym if I could help it. I had no desire to work out and pump up my muscles the way Dash did. I was perfectly happy being a wimp. On the other hand... I looked at Sam's face. She was still smiling. Did that mean she liked it? It wasn't that obvious, was it? I leaned forward to kiss her but she pushed me back. I blinked.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Great," I said, again trying to lean forward for a kiss. Her hands were still on my chest though, and she kept me at a distance.

"No weakness? No nausea, dizziness, whatever?"

I sighed and leaned back against the bed again. "Come on, Sam, I feel fine. You saw me in the zone, there was nothing wrong with me. It was just an aftereffect from the concussion. Obviously, it has worn off."

I held out my hand and lit an ecto ball. It hovered for a moment, then spluttered and died. OK, that wasn't normal. I frowned.

"Don't lie to me anymore, Danny," Sam said.

Now where did that come from all of a sudden? "I'm not lying to you."

"Yes you do. You always do that, always saying you're fine when you're obviously not. Now that we... now that we're closer, I expect you to tell me the truth when you feel crappy, or hurt, or afraid. I want to help you, but I can't do that when you hide your feelings from me."

I looked at the floor, considering what she had just said. Did I really do that, did I really shut out my friends like that? Probably. It made sense, too. I got beat up so often that the only way to deal with it was pretend it hadn't happened. I was always fine. I wondered what she wanted to hear from me for a while, and then it clicked.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Making up was nice.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: If you clicked the tiny arrow button next to the title you've missed a chapter (I uploaded two chapters today).

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 8**

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Monday was school for me again, and I let myself be pleasantly swept up in the crowds in the hallways. I didn't particularly like school, but I had also somehow missed it during the past week. It was nice to be around people again, even though those people included morons like Dash Baxter.

"Hey Fentina!"

I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating, unsure of the direction I should take, and I hadn't seen him coming. I turned to see what he wanted this time, and was struck at how large he was. He seemed to have grown while I was absent.

"Gee wiz Dash," I said, looking up to him, cocking my head a little, "You're improving. You almost got my name right. Did you practice the whole week?"

I suppose it wasn't the smartest thing to say at that moment, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, held up by a pair of powerful hands at my collar. He took three long strides, yanked open the first door he encountered and thrust me inside. I stumbled backwards, landed with one foot in a bucket and then hit my head against a mope. Then I crashed into the back of the closet and a box which was standing on top of it toppled over and fell on me. I landed on the floor with a thud, covered in... mothballs. I wrinkled my nose and sneezed.

Laughter entered the janitor's closet, which was where I was. I looked up and saw Dash and at least four of his friends standing in the doorway.

"Enjoy," Dash said wickedly. He closed the door, putting me in darkness.

I sat for a moment, contemplating several scenarios in my head, most of which involved a painful death for the jock, then sighed, held out my hand and lit a small green glowing ecto ball. I let it hover, phased my foot out of the bucket, then myself out of the mothballs and quietly tiptoed to the door. Ghost powers are the greatest thing when you're being bullied. I just went invisible, stuck my head through the door and then invisibly stepped through the door, right next to Dash who was leaning against it. I watched him brag about the coming game, apparently next Friday, and smiled, invisibly. I turned myself intangible once again and entered his body.

Dash stopped in mid sentence, his mouth hanging open. I knew his eyes flashed green for a moment when I took over, but I was sure his friends hadn't noticed. They'd never noticed a half ghost in their midst despite all the strange happenings around me, so I was pretty safe here. I let Dash's mouth hang open for a little while longer, making him drool. Kwan stared at him, and the fact that I had to look down to look into his face made me slightly dizzy. I closed Dash's mouth.

"Hey," I said, "Has anyone seen my clipped toenail collection yet?"

Kwan's mouth hung open, another red haired jock who was searching in his bag for something and whose name was Chris stopped what he was doing and jerked his head around so quickly he must have given himself a whiplash. I giggled.

"You know, that game next Friday night," I continued, "I'm not sure I can make it. I hate missing my ballet lessons."

I raised my hands above my head and attempted to twirl on my toes. By that time, the whole hallway had fallen silent and everybody was staring at me. The attempted twirl made me stumble, and I heavily bumped into some lockers, hitting my head.

"Ow," I said.

I actually felt that, so I decided that enough was enough. Invisibly, I stepped out of his body and rushed away. I spotted Sam and Tucker standing at the end of the hallway, watching the spectacle, and I dove behind them, touched their shoulders briefly and became visible again.

"Hi guys," I grinned, watching a confused Dash get to his feet, muttering, "Ballet?"

I had expected them to laugh, but they didn't. Sam turned to me and scowled.

"I thought you said you wouldn't do that anymore," she said.

"I did?"

"Yeah man," Tucker said, "Not that I don't agree with a little Dash bashing, but you said misusing your ghost powers made you like Vlad."

I thought about that. I couldn't remember saying it, but I was unsure if I should tell them that. Then I remembered the talk I had with Sam the night before, about not lying to her, and suddenly felt cornered. I opted for the safest way out.

"You're right of course," I said, "I shouldn't do that." I looked at my watch. "Too late to go to my locker. Let's go to class."

We had first period together, and then went our separate ways. Sam had biology, which I suspected she only took so that she could argue with the teacher about animal rights, Tucker was off to Computer Graphics and I had study hall, which meant sleeping. I hid in a corner of the library, behind some racks with books and rested my head on my backpack. There hadn't been a single ghost fight that night, but I had used power to overshadow Dash and it had worn me out. Some sleep would replenish my energy. I'm not saying it didn't worry me at that time, but I've always been great at hiding my head in the sand and hoping things would get better. And they did. I woke up perfectly in time for third period and I did feel better. Of course, I hadn't done my Spanish homework I had planned to do during study hall, but Mrs Gomez let it rest when I said I had a headache. She smiled sympathetically at me and told me to let her know if I wanted to go see the nurse. Very pleased with my acting skills, I sat down and managed to pay attention, for the most part.

The three of us had lunch outside, sitting a little bit out of the way near the bushes at the end of the field outside the cafeteria. We talked about random things and I watched Sam's face when she got excited recounting an argument she'd had with her biology teacher about animal testing. Tucker watched me watching her and opened his mouth a few times as if wanting to say something, but then thinking better of it. I laughed inwardly and decided to freak him out a little.

"Hey Sam," I said dreamily, interrupting her.

"Yes!" she said, a little irritably.

"Wanna be my girlfriend?"

Tucker's mouth fell open. Sam stared at me in surprise, then caught Tucker's face and grinned.

"Sure," she said.

She leaned forward and our lips met. Tucker didn't move. He didn't even get his phone out. He just sat there, staring.

"Wait, what... you two," he spluttered, finally finding his voice, "How come... when did this happen?"

"Just now of course," I said, smiling into the kiss.

"No," Tucker said, "No way... you're joking, you're setting me up, this is one of your fake out make outs again to freak me out."

"Oh come on, Tuck," Sam said, breaking away from me, "You're always pushing us together, and when we finally decide to hook up you don't believe us?"

"No," Tucker said, "You're too clueless. He's too clueless. Or did you seduce him? I could see that happening..."

Sam blushed. "No, Tucker, actually, we went out on that date Saturday, remember, and he told me he liked me."

"Saturday? And you're only telling me now because?" Tucker shook his head and gave me a strange look. He got up and tugged at my arm. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

I shrugged and followed him. He walked away for a bit until he was out of Sam's hearing range and then turned around to face me. I raised my eyebrows.

"What, are you gonna give me 'the talk'?" I asked, "Because you know, I already know..."

"What happened to 'I can't go into a relationship with anybody let alone Sam because ghosts would go after her'?" he whispered.

Or tried to whisper. Tucker's whisper is very loud. People near us turned their heads to look at us and I dragged him away until we were well away from everybody. I turned around and waved at Sam. She waved back, a baffled expression on her face.

"What do you mean," I said, "I can't go on a date with Sam?"

"You don't remember? I finally got you to admit that you liked Sam at the beginning of the school year, but when I tried to encourage you to ask her out you gave me a rant about how dangerous it would be for her to be your girlfriend, ghosts would go after her, Vlad would go after her..."

I didn't remember. A slight panic started to rise in me. This was the second time today one of my friends referred to some conversation we were supposed to have had and I didn't remember. The fear and anxiety I had felt that day right after the accident when everything had seemed out of place came back full force and I felt my mouth go dry.

"Oh yeah," I said, a little shakily, stuffing my shaking hands deep into my pockets, "I remember, I just changed my mind. I can protect her. Heck, I was already protecting you and her and everybody, right? She's in no more danger being my girlfriend than being my friend."

Tucker looked at me strangely. "If you say so, dude," he said.

He turned away from me and I followed him back to our table, trying to push away the thought something was very, very wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 9**

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Had I been happy to be back in school in the morning, that feeling had all but completely disappeared by the time last period finally arrived. I was one of the first to arrive in class and I was tired and nervous, and every time somebody said something to me I jumped. I was now noticing what I hadn't noticed before, or had pushed away because I didn't want to see it. I had large gaps in my memory.

I looked around the classroom warily, taking in the students that were entering, chatting lightly with each other, laughing, or quiet, just holding their books. Paulina and Star. Dash and Kwan. Valerie. And then two students who I was sure I had never seen before, but who nodded at me, a red haired boy with glasses and a blond girl with long hair that hung in her face as if to hide away from the world. I nodded back at them and slumped further into my seat. Sam and Tucker entered together, slightly out of breath because they had to come from the other side of the school, and Mr Lancer entered right after them. They dropped into their seats on each side of me and started chatting, but I didn't listen.

I had had trouble locating my locker. I did remember the number and the combination, I just forgot where it was. There had been a quiz in my history class, and I had been unable to answer any question. It hadn't about stuff that had been covered during the previous week, and the teacher had been very surprised when I submitted my empty piece of paper. It wasn't like I didn't know the answers to the questions, it was more like I didn't even understand the questions. I couldn't remember any of it. Had I been sleeping in class the entire year?

On the other hand, math had been surprisingly easy. Mr Faluca had caught me staring out of the window and had ordered me up front. He had thrust a piece of chalk in my hands, and had gleefully said that since I didn't seem to think I needed instruction, could I please solve the equation on the board. So I did. Everybody, including Mr Faluca, stared at me. He had started stuttering, and finally recovered.

"F-fine, Mr Fenton, it's nice to see you've finally found your family's insight in these matters."

I had sat down again, feeling uncomfortable. I had been bad at math before. Why did this seem like it was easy, like I had done it before, when it was obviously new to the other students? I could understand the memory loss for history, I could attribute that to the after effect of the concussion, but I couldn't believe a blow on the head could somehow induce the ability to understand math, let alone understand something we _hadn't even covered yet_.

So sitting in my English class, listening to both the teacher and my friends' conversation in the back of the classroom, I spent the time searching my head, trying to find out what I did or didn't know. Of course, trying to find out what's _not_ in your head is a pretty pointless exercise only good for giving you headaches, which was exactly what happened. I also wondered if I should tell Sam. I didn't want to worry her, but I had also promised to tell her everything. Maybe, if I just waited, it'd all come back to me.

Satisfied with that solution, I finally tuned in again and listened to Mr Lancer explaining an assignment.

"... due next week. That means Monday, for those who can't count. Not next Friday, not Tuesday because you thought you had a whole week including Monday, just eighth period English class Monday. I want a short essay explaining to the outside world, so someone not knowing you, who you are, what makes you tick. It doesn't have to get very involved, but not something like 'I'm a football player therefore I am'. Five hundred words minimum, and that's going easy on you. Class dismissed."

He spoke the last words into the noise of the bell, and the class erupted in chatter, shoving chairs, and ringing phones. A small group gathered around Paulina, who was talking to someone on the phone in a high pitched voice that girls use when they're talking to each other about clothes, waving her hand around as if the caller could actually see her. Sam looked at her and scowled, and I burst out laughing.

"What?" she said, turning to me, thereby also redirecting her scowl.

"Nothing," I said, used to her evil looks.

Still trying to ignore the fact that I couldn't put names on half of the girls who were gathered around Paulina, I shoved my books in my bag and followed Sam and Tucker out of the school into freedom. We walked past the Nasty Burger and through the park, and then went to Tucker's house to do the homework for the classes we shared. I happily trudged along and managed to not let it show I had a hard time figuring out the way to his house. Somewhere in the back of my mind the fear was growing. I squashed it mercilessly and covered it up by being overly happy. So much so that my friends gave me strange looks.

"I'm just happy," I said, "I'm up and about again, I feel all better and I have a beautiful girlfriend who also happens to be one of my best friends. What more can a guy want?"

Sam smiled but Tucker shook his head, muttering, "Well, as long as you're happy..."

We did our homework the way we always did, sprawled on the floor between our books and empty soda cans. At one point I fell asleep with my head on my math book, and had a rather disturbing dream in which I was in a white room, all by myself, unable to figure out where or who I was. I awoke with a jolt when my ghost sense went off and found my face stuck to the book.

"Gee, thanks guys," I said, eying the crumpled and slightly wet page.

Tucker grinned and showed me a picture on his phone of a drooling me, sleeping peacefully. I transformed into Danny Phantom, swept the phone from his hand by turning it intangible and then pressed the delete button to erase it before throwing it back at him. Tucker shrugged and pointed at his computer.

"Knew you were gonna do that. Backups."

I rolled my eyes and shot through the ceiling. I hovered above Tucker's house for a moment, searching for the ghost that had invoked my ghost sense, but I saw no one. After a few moments, Sam and Tucker appeared in front of Tucker's house, and they looked up at me. I shrugged, and was just about to float down to the ground when I saw something moving from the corner of my eyes.

"There!" I shouted and took off, sure of the fact that my friends would follow as fast as they could.

He was flying over the park, in broad daylight, seemingly uncaring if anybody saw him. I overtook him easily and he glanced sideways to me, disinterest clear in his face. Then he turned away from me and flew on in the direction of the outskirts of town, where all the villas and mansions stood, among which that of Vlad Masters, the mayor.

"Hey, Skulker!" I shouted, annoyed by the fact that he was ignoring me, "What happened to hanging my pelt on your wall?"

He continued to ignore me, so I blasted him. That got his attention, and he turned around to face me, now looking slightly annoyed. As a precaution, I gathered a large energy ball in my hands. He smirked at me.

"Be careful with that," he smirked, "Don't hurt yourself."

I hurled it at him and he dodged easily. Then he returned fire and I dodged too, but I was slow. He hit me in the shoulder and I reeled backwards. Immediately I fired a volley of shots at him, each placed right next to each other and he tried to dodge. I had anticipated his move correctly, however, because three of my blasts were hits. It drove him down to the ground. I started charging a new blast, but suddenly felt that wave of weakness again. Before I knew it, I was plummeting to the ground. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard Sam scream, but I couldn't be sure because I was staring at the rapidly approaching ground, trying to decide whether the impact would kill me or not. Moments later, I found out.

Nope. Not lethal. Painful though.

I hit the ground, causing a Danny shaped indent in the grass, and before I knew it the two white rings appeared all by themselves and transformed me back into a battered and tired teenager. I was laying face down, my mouth full off dirt and grass. Painfully, I turned my head sideways and stared up at four Skulkers, staring down at me. I blinked.

"Whoa," I slurred, "Which of you wants my pelt again?"

I closed my eyes and reopened them, and now there were only two. Much better. The face of ghosts in the metal suits remained impassive.

"I have no use for _your_ pelt," they said in unison, but with only one voice.

I closed my eyes again and decided that the best tactic for now was to take a nap.


	10. Chapter 10

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 10**

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"I still think this is a bad idea."

It was Sam who had spoken. We were standing barely ten feet away from the front door of Vlad's mansion, looking up at the ostentatious place that seemed way too big for a man on his own. Then again, he was the mayor, and he did have an entire ghost lab to hide. I shrugged and winced. I was still sore from the bruises I had sustained the day before. I had been lucky though. It was only bruises.

Sam and Tucker had found me in the park, laying in a secluded spot away from the main pathways. They had had some trouble waking me up, but that was more from fatigue than from an actual injury. I hadn't broken anything, didn't have a headache and saw only one Tucker and one Sam. My collection of bruises was growing impressively though. The bruise on my arm where Sam had hit me a few days ago was still there, now a greenish spot. Some bruises on my arms where Dash had grabbed me when he shoved me into the closet. And a large black bruise on my ribs and thigh where I had hit the ground. I hid all of them from my parents and other curious people by wearing a long sleeved shirt. I also conveniently hid them from my friends that way. They would worry even more when they saw that my usual healing capabilities were hampered too. I'd just have to wait, they'd fade away in time.

They had brought me home, up to my room, where I had promptly fallen asleep again. I was still tired when I woke up the next morning, and had dragged myself through school the whole day. Jazz had been shocked at my appearance, the dark circles under my eyes and the stiff way I moved, and had insisted on going to see Vlad right after school.

So now we were standing here, the four of us, and I wanted to go in. Sam was sort of plucking at my arm, looking extremely nervous. I was a little unnerved by that. Sam was never nervous.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said, "Let's just go..."

The door opened and Vlad stared down on us, a frown on his face. I looked up at him and swallowed, suddenly not at all sure that coming here was such a good idea. I didn't like the expression on his face. Anger. Annoyance. Disapproval. I took a step forward.

"Daniel," he finally said, looking first at me and then at my friends and sister, "What are you doing here?"

"H-hello f... Vlad." I looked back at my friends. "Um, can we come in?"

He considered that, and I waited anxiously. Sam was looking around, as if searching for an escape route, and Tucker was trying to peer inside. Jazz was fidgeting, seemingly having second thoughts.

"Certainly," Vlad said.

He stepped aside and courteously let us enter the enormous hallway. A grand staircase took up about half the space of it, and there were many doors leading to the different rooms in the house. The four of us stood there for a moment. Jazz and Tucker looked around in awe, dwarfed as we were by the sheer size of it. Sam only looked bored, obviously being used to this kind of environment.

"Look," she said, "We came to ask for something, but I'm pretty sure you won't help us anyway. No funny business. My parents know where I am."

"I sincerely doubt that," Vlad smirked, "But do come further. It is not often that I get such young visitors, let alone four of them who should know better."

He gave me a piercing look and I felt my throat constrict. I didn't like the way he was looking at me. Like I was some sort of insect, a bug to be studied in biology class. I lagged behind when he led us to a room on the right, the library. Thousands of books were lined up on shelves on the walls, a comfortable chair and a small side table with a lamp on it in a corner of the room, a desk on the other end. A fire place in the middle, with some chairs arranged comfortably around it. We sat down. I had a strange feeling. Something was tugging at my mind, a distant memory, but when I tried to focus it slipped away from me.

"Well now... Daniel," Vlad said, "Do tell me. No, let me guess. You're having trouble with your ghost powers, hmm?"

I jumped up. "Wha-what did you do to me," I asked, "You dragged me away in that department store, and now I'm losing power all of a sudden!" I tried to keep the fear out of my voice, but the expression on Vlad's face told me I hadn't entirely succeeded.

"Ah," he said, "Interesting. Anything else? How have you been holding up the past week? Anything... unusual?"

He seemed to be genuinely interested. I looked at Sam. She nodded at me and smiled hesitantly. I wondered if she would still smile at me if she found out I had been holding back information on her after all.

"I.. I don't remember things," I said, purposely looking away from her, "Conversations we're supposed to have had... my entire history class... things in my parents' lab... it's gone. I have gaps in my memory, I don't know what else is missing."

"But otherwise you're doing fine," Vlad said, "Impressive."

"What's wrong with me?" I demanded, "You know what it is, don't you. You did something. What did you need me for? Why did you leave me there in that fire? I could have died!"

Vlad nodded. "Yes, you could have," he agreed, "You were very lucky you woke up when you did."

"You tried to kill me?" I was stunned. Vlad actually tried to kill me by leaving me in that fire?

He waved his hand. "Oh no, my dear boy," he said, "I didn't care one way or the other. I have no further use for you. Though I must say, your survival does make things interesting."

For some reason, his words stung. I felt abandoned, somehow. He couldn't discard me like that. Wasn't I his apprentice or something? He must have seen the hurt look on my face, because he suddenly stood up from his chair and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked.

I nodded impatiently, somehow slightly comforted by the feel of his hands on my shoulders.

"Follow me then."

He walked to the door and I followed him. The others also got up, but Vlad turned around and shook his head, his hand on the door handle.

"Not you. Just him. Come, Daniel."

"Wait! What are you gonna do to him!" Jazz shouted.

"Just talk," Vlad said, "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll have someone get you some refreshments. This will only take a moment."

"It's alright, Jazz," I said, "Just wait here, OK?"

I left them to worry on their own and followed Vlad through the hallway, down the stairs into his basement. It was an enormous space with a huge screen filling up the wall at the end. A hologram of my mother was standing next to a computer, smiling at us when we entered.

"Hello c-c-cupcake," she stuttered. I flinched.

Vlad walked all the way to the computers and started typing something, leaving me to inspect the familiar surroundings of the lab. A spotless steel examination table with bright lights above it which made my breath quicken, numerous vials with strangely colored goo-like substances in it, some pods with vague, human like shapes in it, giving me the creeps. Was Vlad making more clones? Was that why he had needed me? I had a feeling it was something else though, something I should know. I rubbed my eyes and looked around for a place to sit.

Vlad turned around and looked at me, crossing his arms in front of him. "D17," he said.

I automatically straightened. "Yes, father," I answered.


	11. Chapter 11

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 11**

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The lab was cool and quiet, save for the slight humming of what I though could be an air conditioner. Goosebumps ran up my arms, like little spidery legs crawling over my skin. I looked at Vlad as conflicting emotions ran through me, father, nemesis, father, adversary... The image of my mother appeared in my mind, smiling, and I pictured her together with father, looking happy, looking proud... I tried to make a sound, but somewhere along the way I seemed to have lost my voice. Nothing came out.

"You," father said, "Are a clone. D17, meaning the seventeenth I manufactured. The best one I've ever made, and still, a failure. For months I thought that with you, I had finally succeeded. You did well in the beginning, your powers were increasing, you matured quickly. But then you too began to show the weakness all clones have, the instability of your DNA."

I was standing there, frozen on the spot. I heard him talking, as if telling a story, and not even a particularly interesting one at that, but his words didn't really register. I knew it couldn't be true, there had to be another explanation, father would never do this to me, his... son?

"You were falling apart every time you used your ghost powers," he continued dispassionately, "There was no way to fix you, not even with Daniel's mid-morph DNA. It was a pity, because I had invested a lot in you. I managed to get a hold of the 'Cramtastic 2000', a device used for speed learning that has been banned by the authorities because of its side effects. I believe it was used at Caspar High school at one point too. The results were excellent, but it was found out later that it caused depression, schizophrenia, and hallucinations. I used it to get you up to speed, to teach you the things you need to know to be my successor, business economics, mathematics, chemistry."

I stared at him. I felt lost, betrayed. Everything I thought I knew was suddenly swept away from me. I had never gone to school before, everything that I knew was crammed into me by a machine... yet I _remembered_ going to school. Sitting in class. Strolling through the hallways to meet my friends. It just wasn't possible. There had to be another explanation... although it did explain how I got to be good at math. Father had obviously thought history was unimportant.

He looked at me now, scrutinizing my face, undoubtedly trying to gauge my reaction to the news.

"When it became apparent that you too were a failed experiment, I decided that cloning wasn't going to work at all. I needed the real Daniel. So I started working on the Cramtastic 2000, modifying it so that I could insert actual memories into a person's mind. It is now called the Cramtastic Plasmius."

He pressed another button, and the huge screen on the wall lit up, and started playing video footage of a ghost fight, me against Skulker. And then another, me against FrightNight. Recordings of the school, images from security cameras. My house, the lab, the living room, my own room. Cameras everywhere. The mall, the three of us walking up to the new ice cream vendor, laughing and gesturing wildly... The date on it was the day before the fire at the department store. I started sweating. My memories. I was looking at my memories. I _remembered_ these things...

"I used the Cramtastic Plasmius to feed these to you, all the while using special electrodes to stimulate your brain to accept the images as real, as yours. I knew that if I could get you to believe that you were Daniel Fenton, I could also convert Daniel into believing he was my son. And it worked perfectly. You really thought you were Daniel Fenton, even to the point that you were asking for your friends when I unhooked you from the machine. I believe I even managed to convince you you were in love with Miss Manson."

It hurt. I wrapped my arms around me, feeling a physical pain in my chest. I could try and deny everything father was saying, I could pretend he was lying to me, but deep down inside of me I knew he was telling the truth. I was a reject, a useless specimen, used to experiment on and discard when no longer needed. I searched his face desperately, looking for the familiar look of approval, of pride whenever I did something right. It wasn't there.

"The black ghost..."

"D16. Your predecessor, didn't even form correctly. Completely useless, but gullible."

That explained the familiarity of its shape. Sam and Tucker had said it looked like my shadow.

"Where...?"

"Fell apart right after he managed to knock you down." He gestured at one of the vials on a shelf. "That's all that remained of him."

I looked at the bubbling goo in the vial, feeling sick. Was I going to end up like that too? I wanted to look away, look anywhere else but at the remains of my brother, but I couldn't. I was alive, I _felt_ alive, dammit, how could I be a clone, a copy? I tore my eyes away from the vial and looked at my hands. They were real. I was real. I could feel, laugh, love... Yet father thought me useless. A failure. I swallowed.

"You left me to die," I whispered.

"Ah, yes, your usefulness was over, my boy. I decided I could use you one last time to cover up my abduction of Daniel. If you had died in that department store, you would have been identified as Daniel Fenton. Your DNA is identical to his. There would have been no doubt. A tragic accident."

"But I escaped..."

"Yes. There was that possibility. And I'm glad you did. It gave me the opportunity to study you, your interaction with your friends and your family. They don't suspect a thing."

He pressed a button and now an image appeared of me in my room at home. My Fenton Works home. I was cleaning up. I remembered doing that. I also remembered the reaction of my friends to my strange behavior.

"They thought I was behaving strangely," I said. I turned to him. "You always forced me to clean up, to put everything straight, to be obsessively tidy..."

"I'm glad to see my instructions weren't a total waste," father said.

A distant memory surfaced, an vague impression of standing in a room which was tidy, until father looked under the bed where I had shoved all my toys. It was a smaller me, father looked tall and intimidating, and I craved for his approval, his love. Instead, he hit me and then made me clean up the room again. I looked at the floor.

"No," I said, "they weren't."

Father walked over to the other side of the lab and pressed a red button on the wall. I started as part of the wall started sliding away sideways, revealing huge window and a closed door next to it. I moved closer to father and looked inside.

A white room. A bed. A table. Sitting at the table, a boy with raven black hair and empty blue eyes. Father studied him for a moment, and then walked back to the computer to look at the graph.

"He's resisting," he said softly, "He's stronger than you. You were easy, but then again, you only had a few months worth of experiences and memories to get rid of. He has a whole life. It'll take time." He turned back to me, a look of disdain on his face. "I advice you not to use your ghost powers. You'll live longer. How much longer, I cannot say. Who knows, your human DNA may be affected as well."

It was unfair.

I stared at the boy sitting at the table. He was quiet, staring straight ahead, perfectly still. His face was gaunt, his blue eyes empty, and he was me. A thinner, sickly looking me, with very short hair and some sort of electrodes attached to the back of his head. The wires led to a computer standing in the back of the room. He was only wearing a gray tank top and gray sweatpants. I could see the scars on his body and upper arms, scars just like mine. But his were real. Earned in battle. Mine were real too, but not earned in battle. They were put there deliberately, to make me look like him. Me. Look like me. I was me.

I shivered and glanced at father, who was looking at the boy with a strange expression on his face. Satisfaction? Smugness? Love? That couldn't be. How could he love that boy and not me? I wasn't so different from him, I was him. We were the same. He was the original, I was the copy. I flexed my muscles. I was better than him. He was weak, I was strong. Unstable, but strong. I felt the bile rise in my throat, and an unreasonable hate for the boy sitting at the table. Danny Fenton. The _real_ Danny Fenton.

I turned around and staggered away from the window and father's smirking face, feeling sick. I made it to the bathroom and threw up, emptying my stomach until nothing remained, and even then continued heaving. The world was spinning, gray spots were dancing before my eyes as I thought about what I was.

A clone. A copy. Worthless, to be thrown away once my usefulness was over. Unstable, melting every time I used my ghost powers. A failed experiment. I cried.

After what seemed like a long time, the door opened and father looked in. I was sitting on the cold floor with my back against the tiled wall, my head resting on the toilet seat. I didn't care. I still felt sick, but there was nothing left in my stomach. I stretched my cramped right leg and my foot landed against the door with a clunk.

"Get up," father said, "Your friends are waiting."

Friends? I didn't have friends. Danny had friends, they weren't my friends. They'd hate me if they knew what I was. They'd rescue their friend and discard me, just like father had discarded me. I would be alone and dying. I was dying... The thought struck me with a flash of thunder. I hiccuped and started crying again. I didn't want to die.

"Stop crying and get up," father said impatiently, "I don't have all day."

I wouldn't die if I didn't use my ghost powers. I'd be OK, father had said so. I could go on living, have friends, a family. They wouldn't know I wasn't Danny, because I was Danny. I could be him, take his life, be happy. The boy in the room was dead. Not physically, but mentally. I didn't know what father had done to him, but he looked in total control of the boy. Of it. Better to think of him as it. It was easier that way.

Slowly, I forced my weak limbs to move, to get up, using the wall as support. I staggered to the wash basin and looked in the mirror. I looked like crap. I felt worse. With shaking hands I turned the tap and splashed some water into my face. Then I looked again. Red rimmed eyes, a haunted look in them, pale face, running nose. They'd know something was wrong immediately. I couldn't let that happen. I didn't want to have to explain myself to them.

"Tell them to leave," I said hoarsely, "Tell them I'll catch up with them later. I can't face them like this."

Father studied me, a detached look on his face. How I hated that. He had made me love him like a father, had made me hate my own father even though technically he wasn't my father but the father of... it. And he hated me. I was a failure. Tears almost spilled out of my eyes again, but I managed to restrain myself this time.

"Father," I said, unable to keep the pleading tone out of my voice, "Please..."

His face contorted in anger. "Don't ever call me that," he said, "I'm giving you a life. Daniel Fenton's life. Live it. Be glad I didn't kill you. Go live with that bumbling idiot Jack Fenton. Be nice to Maddie, don't give her grief. You don't deserve her. Now go, I'll tell your friends you went ahead."

He turned around and walked away, and I felt my heart tear. I wished I was the real Daniel Fenton. I wished he would love me. If only I could show him I was better than that boy, if only I could do something to please him, maybe he would love me too?


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Yes! I got a new job! I can't believe they took _me_! And for that, you're getting two chapters at the same time. Of course, you would've gotten two chapters anyway because this one is short but what the hey.

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 12**

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I flew home. I shouldn't have, of course, but it was the only way to get away quickly. By the time I phased into my room and dropped down on my bed, transforming right above it, I was completely wasted. I had about half an hour on my friends and sister, I had planned to use that time to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I had left them there, but the only thing I could do was lay there, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling.

Images flashed in front of me, images, memories, I realized, that had been there before, but that I had pushed away, father had pushed away, replaced with memories of Danny Fenton's life. Fake memories. Real memories of a real person, imprinted in a fake person. Me.

I tried to focus on the distant memories, memories of my early childhood, my previous existence, but they were strangely elusive. The memories I had from Danny's life were much more vivid, in fact, if I hadn't seen the boy sitting in that room, if I hadn't seen the images Vlad showed me, my exact memories, if I hadn't responded to father's calling me D17 so readily, and worst of all if I hadn't been melting like a _clone_, I wouldn't have believed him. I was Danny Fenton. With every fiber of my being, I believed that. I was him. I wanted to be him. I wished I could forget everything father had shown me.

I rolled sideways and drew up my knees, curling myself into a ball. My breathing was ragged and my vision strangely blurred. I wanted to cry, but no tears came. He had taught me how to fight, how to be strong, to love him and to hate Jack Fenton. Then he had taken everything away from me, had crushed my previous personality and had replaced me with Danny Fenton. Danny Fenton who now hated his father, the man who provided half of his genes, and craved for the love of the father who created him.

I stared at my desk – _my_ desk, I was sure it was my desk, it _felt_ like my desk, at the computer on it, at the tidiness of the room. Father always made me clean up my room. D17 always cleaned up his room. Danny Fenton didn't. I tried to imagine clutter on the floor, clothes thrown into a corner, empty soda cans littering the desk, but I couldn't. Still, if I wanted to be Danny Fenton...

I looked at my alarm clock. They'd be here any moment now. I tried to uncurl and sit up, and found that I couldn't. My fists were clenched and I pressed them against my face, letting out a whimper. "Breathe," I thought, "Breathe." I concentrated on my breathing for a while, and slowly managed to gain control over it. In, out, in, out. Nothing to it, really. Time passed, minutes ticked away. They should have been there by now, I thought. A slow panic started to rise. What had Vlad told them? What if they had gotten suspicious?

Again, I tried to relax. Outside, I heard a car stop, car doors slammed, distinct, combat-boot-induced footsteps. I unclenched my fists.

"Now," I thought, "Calm down. Sit, sit."

I moved my arms, pushed myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. That was better. I got up, looked back at the bed to straighten it, but then thought better of it. I had a role to play. I had to be Danny Fenton. I _was_ Danny Fenton. I was not obsessively tidy.

The door opened and Sam stormed in, closely followed by Jazz. I heard Tucker on the stairs, wheezing, complaining. Sam saw me and stopped dead in her tracks, causing Jazz to bump into her.

"What did you think you were doing!" she shrieked, "Are you crazy! Why did you run out on us like that! We thought Vlad had done something to you, we searched his house and everything and you were just gone... are you alright?"

That last part came out less loud, when she took a good look at me. I realized I still looked horrible. I also realized I hadn't thought of an explanation yet. I was just about to open my mouth and start stuttering, when Jazz saved me.

"Vlad told us you contracted a ghost virus and that you shouldn't be using your ghost powers. That was very irresponsible of you, Danny. Why did you strain yourself? We could have taken you home!"

"Um, yeah, um," I said, "I freaked out. I'm sorry."

Sam rushed up to me and hugged me, and I tentatively hugged her back. It felt good, holding her. Even if my love for her was fake.

"It's OK," I said, "I'll just have to not use my ghost powers. I'll be alright."

I let her lead me back to my bed and dropped down heavily on it. She sat beside me. Jazz crossed her arms and was shaking her head. The house was quiet, save for a soft clanking sound that came from the basement. Probably Jack... my father... working on something. An idea began to form in my head. I pushed it aside to examine it later and put my arm around Sam's shoulders.

"So," Tucker said from the doorway, "How long?"

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"How long until you get better?"

I took a deep breath. Father obviously hadn't expanded on the subject, leaving it to me to come up with a suitable story as to why I could _never_ use my powers again. I blinked. Never. No more flying, no more phasing out of my locker, no more going invisible when Dash was chasing me... I'd have to live like a normal human being, still full of power, but unable to use it.

"I don't know," I said, "Until the virus is gone."

"Didn't Vlad say how long it would take?" Sam asked, "How did you get it anyway?"

Good question. How did I get it?

"Must have been that ghost at the department store," Tucker said, "It all started when he got hit on the head by it. Maybe that ghost had the virus."

"Or," Sam said, frowning, "Vlad himself gave it to him. He was there too, wasn't he? We didn't actually see him doing anything to Danny, but..."

"No, I think you're right," I said quickly, "It must have been that black ghost."

I was still defending father. I probably shouldn't now that he had betrayed me, but I couldn't just let go. There had to be a way for him to accept me again. I would not let him replace me that easily. Again my thoughts drifted to the man in the orange jump suit downstairs. And all the while my friends and sister discussed the nature of the ghost virus, and how to go about catching ghosts until I got better, I thought about how to regain father's approval, his love, his respect.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: If you clicked the little arrow next to the title you missed a chapter 'cuz I uploaded two today...

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 13**

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The next morning I was still tired, but not so much as I was the day before. Again, my dreams had been haunted by melting clones, but I had managed to not scream each time I woke up with a jolt. Jazz suspected something, because I was sure I heard her in my room at three in the morning, checking on me, but I pretended to be asleep.

I awoke again at six, not from a nightmare but from my ghost sense going off. Before I knew it, I was out of my bed, standing at the window to search for the ghost. Subconsciously, I reached for my ghost form, but at the last moment called it off. It left me feeling both weak and supercharged, and I was unable to sleep again. Tuesday morning found me sitting at the breakfast table at the unusual early time of seven o'clock. On the other side of the table, happily munching on his Jack Fenton shaped toast while using a screwdriver on some box like thing that could have been anything, was my father. Danny's father. And since I was Danny, he was my father.

Conflicting emotions swirled right under the surface of my carefully shaped blank face. I was eating a bowl of cereal, not really tasting it contents, all the while watching the man Vlad had taught me to hate. For a moment, I let myself be engulfed with that emotion I had suppressed during the past week, the burning hot feeling of enmity toward the man who caused Vlad's suffering from ecto acne and my half ghost existence. He was the cause of all the pain and suffering Vlad and I had gone through. He deserved...

"Danny?"

I started and looked up at Jazz standing in the doorway. She had a strange expression on her face, one of concern and maybe even suspicion. I realized I must have somehow allowed my feelings to be shown on my face, so I quickly put on an innocent expression. I could tell she saw it was fake, but she relaxed somewhat.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked, stepping into the kitchen and fetching herself a bowl of cereal.

I looked down at my own bowl and noticed I was still clenching the spoon tightly, knuckles white. With some effort, I relaxed and slouched down in my chair.

"Woke up. Couldn't sleep. Hungry," I grumbled in what I hoped was a good imitation of a bad mood, so she would think the expression on my face had nothing to do with that idiot Jack Fenton, but instead had reflected the mood I was in.

She sat down next to me, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Did you sleep alright?" she asked, using that tone of voice saying, I know you didn't and I'm giving you the chance to talk about it now.

"Sure."

At that moment Jack exclaimed something along the line of needing a more nimble kind of fingers, gathered all his stuff in one big sweep and rushed down to the basement, shouting, "Mads!"

I rolled my eyes and relaxed, only now realizing how tense the man made me. Jazz laughed.

"Come on, little bro, I'll drive you to school."

The school was almost empty when we arrived, classes wouldn't start in another half hour. Jazz happily wandered off to her science club meeting, and I sat down on the steps at the main entrance, my hands in my pockets and looking down at the tiles that made up the path leading out to the street. I didn't really think about anything, purposefully trying to empty my mind of any thoughts that had to do with Vlad, clones, Jack Fenton, melting and ghosts in general. Of course, trying to not think about something is impossible.

Cars started coming into the parking lot, school buses were drawing up along the curb, students coming in walking, or biking, or rollerskating. The school started to come alive with chatter and laughter, but I stayed where I was, sitting on the steps, waiting for one person in particular.

When I finally spotted her, walking on the other side of the road, carrying her spider backpack, I felt that familiar feeling wash over me again. I smiled. The sight of her raised my spirits, made me feel like I could do anything. I got up and walked down the stairs to meet her.

"Hey, Danny," she said, smiling, "How are you feeling?"

"Great," I said and placed a quick kiss on her lips.

"Did you bring what we agreed upon?" she asked.

I nodded and opened my backpack to show her the ecto guns. The day before, we had decided to arm ourselves better, since I couldn't use my ghost powers. Also, we had agreed to leave more of the ghosts to either my parents, Valerie or, heaven forbid, the GIW. We would hunt the more dangerous ghosts, the ones I usually caught, by using our wits and the ecto guns. I would not transform into Danny Phantom, and would only use my powers in case of an emergency. I hoped that would be enough. I didn't want to think about their reaction and possible suspicion when I had to tell them I could never use my powers again. That was weeks, possibly months away, as long as I could draw it out. Maybe I could convince them the illness was permanent.

Tucker arrived a little later, and together we entered the school. Although still tired, I felt a lot better than the day before, so I managed to stay awake during most classes. During study hall, I got out my history book and simply started reading it from the beginning, all the while wondering how I was going to make up a whole year of it in a few weeks. I also made sure to learn the names of my classmates in every class, jotting their names and a brief description down in my notebook, so I wouldn't slip up.

All this required a lot of concentration, so by the end of the day I felt a slight headache lingering behind my eyes. I leaned against the wall opposite my locker, waiting for Sam and Tucker who both managed to get themselves being detained. Sam for talking back to her biology teacher a little too loudly and Tucker for the same reason he always got detention: playing with his PDA in class.

The school emptied, and I managed to hide from Dash by slipping into an empty classroom when he and the entire football team thundered through the hallways, searching for someone to torment and, due to a lack of Fenton, settled for Mikey instead. They shoved him into his locker after emptying his bag and scattering the contents, laughing the whole time. I just watched, my blood boiling, not daring to do anything. In essence, when I didn't have ghost powers, I was a coward.

When they were gone I freed Mikey and helped him gather his stuff. He thanked me profusely, which only made me feel worse. What kind of hero was I anyway, if I didn't step out and challenged those who tormented and bullied others? The answer came as soon as I thought the question. I wasn't. I wasn't Danny Phantom, or even Danny Fenton. Pretending to be him was wrong. But I didn't have any other option. Because despite everything I knew, everything Vlad – father – told me, this was my life. Fake memories or not, they were still there. I wasn't pretending to be him, I _was_ him. Mostly. Now if I could only find a way to redeem myself in Vlad's – father's – eyes...

By the time Sam and Tucker arrived I was sitting on the floor, staring morosely at the row of lockers. I wasn't getting anywhere with my thoughts, so I let myself be cheered up by their presence. We were chatting happily while making our way in the direction of the door, when, for the first time that day, my ghost sense went off.

My heart started pounding. The moment of truth had arrived. Was I able to hunt ghosts in human form? Did I have the guts to face a creature with powers without being able to use my own? For the first time, I understood how Sam and Tucker felt when they had to deal with ghosts. I was practically invincible. They were vulnerable. And now I was too.

"Come on," Sam said, impatiently tugging at my backpack to get it open, "Let's go. That ghost isn't going to wait for us to show up. He'll get away."

I stood still for a moment to allow her to get the ecto guns from my backpack, and then we were off, each of us clutching one of the ectoplasmic powered firearms. I took the lead, rushing through the hallways of the school, concentrating on my ghost sense and trying to determine the direction the ghost was in. After a moment, we didn't have to wonder anymore. Something heavy crashed to the floor in the computer lab.

"Technus," I hissed.

There was only one ghost who would go there. We'd need to capture him quickly, before he managed to create a virtually indestructible suit around him made from computers, household appliances and any other technology he managed to get his hands on.

We came to a halt in front of the door and took position at each side of it, me at the side of the doorknob, Sam and Tucker on the other side. I would love to go intangible and invisible right now to be able to take a look inside, but that would make me weak, not to mention it'd take me one step closer to dying. So instead, I reached out my hand slowly, turned the knob and gave the door a small push. It opened. Cautiously, I peered around the door frame, only jump back when a green ecto blast hit uncomfortably close to my head.

We hadn't even gone in yet, and I was already sweating. Maybe, I thought, we should leave this to the professionals. I was just about to make a comment along that line, when Sam boldly jumped into the room and started firing, screaming at Tucker and me to follow her lead. Left with no choice, I followed her in.

The place was a mess. Tables were overturned, and all the computers were in one big heap at the other end of the room. Floating above them, his hands raised in the air and ready to command everything around him that ran on electricity, Technus. I aimed the ecto gun at him and fired a couple of shots, neatly hitting him in the chest each time before diving behind one of the overturned tables for cover. I glanced at Sam, who was behind another table, a determined look on her face. She wasn't looking at me, but instead peered around the corner to see what the ghost was up to. She was rewarded by a powerful blast and quickly retreated.

I felt movement behind me and turned around quickly, to see Tucker nervously grinning at me. This was getting awkward. I had no means to protect myself or my friends from the ecto blasts the ghost was firing at us. And even less so against the computer monitors that suddenly started crashing into the wall behind us. I held my arm in front of my eyes to protect myself from the shattering glass.

We weren't getting anywhere. I had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, I jumped out from behind the table, took two big steps and dove behind a cabinet that was still standing against the wall. It didn't provide much protection, but it did allow me a better view on the ghost, and I could now shoot at him from his left, so he had to divide his attention between Sam, Tucker and me. I fired a couple of times to get his attention, and Sam immediately got what I was trying to do. She too jumped out of her cover and dashed to the other side of the room, taking up residence behind the teacher's desk. It too didn't provide much cover, and I saw her get hit in the leg. She ignored it though, and started firing continuously at the technology obsessed ghost, who was now swirling around like crazy to keep us pinned down where we were.

"Tucker, thermos!" I yelled.

I couldn't see him, I didn't dare to take my eyes away from Technus. Then from the corner of my eyes, I saw Tucker move out of his hiding place and aim the thermos at the ghost, while Sam and I kept firing. Technus, however, had seen that coming, because he shouted triumphantly and suddenly dove forward and knocked the thermos out of Tucker's hands. It bounced on the floor and rolled away under a couple of overturned chairs near Sam.

Sam.

I could see what was going to happen as clearly as if it had already happened. Tucker fell backwards, hit his head against the wall and slid down to the floor, dazed. Sam scrambled out of her hiding place and reached for the thermos. Technus turned around to face her.

By that time, I was already moving, faster than I had ever moved before. Before Tucker hit the wall, I had already crossed half of the room, and while Technus was still turning, I dashed past him and reached the overturned chairs with the thermos underneath. I grabbed a hold of Sam and turned us both intangible. The huge ecto blast went right through us and blasted the cabinets on the wall instead. They came crashing down and covered us completely. Technus cackled

"See? Impudent boy! You cannot defeat me, for I, Technus, am far superior than you measly humans and nobody can stop me in my quest for world domination! Starting with these computers, I will first conquer this learning facility, then this town and then...AAAhh!"

I was on the move, still forcing intangibility on the both of us. It wouldn't do to become tangible while still in the rubble. I had no idea what exactly it would do to us, but I didn't want to find out. It was hard, though, and I needed practically all my power to accomplish the simple feat. When Technus started screaming, I had just managed to move us out of the remains of the cabinets. I turned, just in time to see Technus disappear into a blue vortex, powered by the thermos held by a still dazed looking Tucker.

"Thanks, Tuck," I wheezed, turning us tangible again.

Sam let out a small gasp when I simply crumbled to the floor. She caught me and eased me down, letting me sit with my back against the wall. She sat down beside me, on her knees. Weakly, I raised my left arm and pulled her close. She was alright. She was unhurt. I would never let her go.

"Um, guys," Tucker said awkwardly, "I think we'd better go."

Thudding footsteps in the hallway, voices, a loud familiar voice, shouting, smashing doors open one by one. It would take them about ten seconds to get here, and we had now way out. No natural way. I groaned, worked myself back to my feet with Sam and Tucker's help and tried to turn the three of us invisible. No dice. As soon as I reached for that particularly easy and undemanding power, I almost collapsed again. The door smashed open and Jack Fenton barged in.

"Crap," I muttered, glaring at the man swaying his ridiculously large ecto cannon.

"Danny!" Jack yelled, surprise evident on his face, "Did you see the ghost? Did you... wait, what are you doing with that ecto gun?"

"Crap," I said again, looking down at my right hand still holding the gun.

I straightened and let go of Sam and Tucker, frowning from the effort to stay upright. I couldn't show them my weakness right now.

"Did you take that gun from the weapons vault?" Jack asked, "You know you're not allowed..."

"Oh, cut it out, dad," I said tiredly. I had to get out of there. "You're always running around with those cannons, the least you can do is allow me to have one measly ecto gun for my protection."

"You bring a gun into the school?" Mr Lancer stepped in from behind Jack and took in the destruction. "_War and Peace_, Mr Fenton, what happened in here!"

"Ghost," both me and Jack said simultaneously.

My mother chose that moment to enter the destroyed computer room. She looked around, took everything in and pulled down her hood and goggles. Then she looked at my face, which probably showed a mixture of fatigue and annoyance. Her eyes traveled down to my hand holding the gun and then back to my face again.

"Danny," she said, her voice stern, "Do I have to explain to you again the rules and safety procedures of the lab?"

She walked up to me and held out her hand. I hung my head and handed her the gun. _Don't give her grief._ I knew what father – Vlad – meant by that. Obey her unconditionally. Somewhere in side me my stomach made an uneasy flip. If he heard about this, I was in for it.

"We'll talk about this at home," mom said.

Sam and Tucker, who had both lost their guns in the fight, followed me out of the room. Jack placed his big hand on my shoulder in passing and I cringed from his touch.

"Hey Danny, I didn't know you were interested in ghost hunting," he beamed, "Why don't we go ghost hunting together? I'll teach you all the tricks and I'll even help you aim."

I stopped, still looking down, only now to hide my blazing green eyes. "No," I hissed, "I won't go ghost hunting with _you_."

We left the school, and only when we were outside did I dare to look up again. Sam and Tucker looked at me, worry clear in their eyes.

"What's the matter, Danny," Tucker said, "You're acting... strange."

"I'm just tired," I said, "Let's go home."

By the time we reached it, I was leaning on Tucker again. Turning us intangible for a few seconds had me completely wiped out. I wasn't getting better, I was getting worse, and my friends knew it. They helped me up to my room, where I collapsed on the bed. I was vaguely aware of somebody pulling off my shoes, some whispered conversation and then everything just sort of blacked out.


	14. Chapter 14

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 14**

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"_There's my boy! Well done, D17! You're improving!"_

_Father smiled at me, and I smiled back at him, proud and happy. I had blasted all the targets he had set up for me on the grounds behind our home. There were human shaped targets, simple black outlines with a bulls eye on it, ghost shaped targets, a basic, white shape with red eyes, and some special targets, a huge man in an orange jump suit. Father was especially pleased when I hit those, so I tried extra hard. _

_I dropped to the ground and transformed into my human form, the form father insisted I used when we had visitors. I didn't quite understand, but I always obeyed father. Disobedience, I had learned, was not acceptable. _

"_Father can I go play now?" I asked, thinking about the half-finished model space ship in my room. _

_I saw him hesitate, and my spirits dropped. I looked at the ground and shuffled my feet. _

"_Later, perhaps," he said, "First, we have another session with the Cramtastic Plasmius. Come along, D17, you can play after."_

_I shouldn't, but I tried anyway. "Father please, it hurts and I'm always tired afterwards. Can't I play first?"_

_I looked up into his face and saw anger darken his eyes. I cringed._

I woke with a start and jerked upright. I regretted that move immediately, and with a groan fell back on my bed again. Everything hurt. The muscles in my arms and legs ached, I felt a strange lurching in my stomach and even breathing was an effort. Someone shouted something in alarm, and a moment later I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me. A female voice, calling out my name. She asked me to open my eyes so I did.

"Hey Sam," I croaked.

She looked at me with huge, worried eyes. "Are you OK?" she asked.

That was a really stupid question. Surely she could see I wasn't? I bit back an angry retort and instead smiled half heartedly.

"Sure. Everything's just fine. I love it when _everything just hurts_!" I couldn't keep the snarl out of my voice in that last part.

The smile on her face faltered, and immediately I felt bad. I wanted her to smile, always. Even if it looked strange on a goth. Not that I thought about it, she was the most un-goth like goth I'd ever seen. Not to people who didn't know her, maybe, but to me she had a definite positive personality. Way more so than I had, anyway. I reached out my hand and touched her face, wincing at the movement.

"I'm sorry, Sam," I said, "I didn't mean to yell at you."

I shifted my hand, moved it behind her head and pulled her down. She let herself be pulled and our lips met in a soft kiss. Someone cleared his throat and we stopped. I felt a flash of anger go through me and suppressed it.

"Tuck," I said, gazing into her eyes, "Get lost."

Sam pulled back. "No, Danny, we need to talk."

I scowled at her and then at Tucker who was sitting on the swivel chair at my desk, looking both taken aback and slightly embarrassed. Well, what did he expect? I finally got her, he had been trying to get us together for ages, he should give us some space. Again I suppressed the thought it hadn't been _us_ he had been trying to get together.

"I'm just a little tired," I said. I looked at the window. "How long was I asleep?"

"A little over two hours," Sam said impatiently, "Your parents aren't back yet. And you're not 'just a little tired', Danny, something is wrong."

"I have a virus, remember? We'll just have to wait it out."

"Would you stop that!" She grabbed my arms and I winced. "You're getting worse! Look at how wiped out you are from just using a little intangibility! Don't you care what's happening to you?"

Sure I did. I cared, a lot. If I didn't care I'd have told them about the Danny in the white room, hooked up to the Cramtastic Plasmius, being forced to redefine his life. Taking my place. Father's perfect son. I felt like screaming. Instead, I smiled.

"Sam, it's no big deal. I'm just sick. I'll get better." I pushed myself up again, a little more careful this time, and tried to ignore my protesting arms. "We'll just have to make sure I don't use my ghost powers for now. Leave the ghosts to the official ghost hunters. Who knows, maybe they'll start to appreciate Phantom a little more when they find out how many ghosts I really catch for them."

My friends were silent for a while. Sam's face twisted into something that seemed to convey both approval and annoyance. Tucker looked down at his feet, then at the swirling screen saver on my computer, out the window and then straight at me.

"So..." Tucker said, "No more ghost hunting?"

He sounded almost disappointed. I shook my head, and it made my head spin for a moment. The two Tuckers circled each other for a moment and then merged into one again. Sam sat down next to me and let me lean on her.

"Maybe you'd better lay down again," she suggested.

"No. My parents will be home soon. I can't let them see me like this."

"Just tell them you're tired. You had a concussion last week. If that isn't a good excuse, nothing is."

"They'll haul me straight back to the hospital to have me checked out. No way."

I stood up and almost fell. Sam caught me and helped me ease down on the bed again.

"Maybe I'll just sit here," I mumbled, trying to suppress the nausea.

I could tell Sam was about to scold me, but at that moment we heard the unmistakable sound of the GAV pulling up in front of the house, car doors being slammed and finally somebody slamming open the front door.

"Danny! We're home!"

Jack. My father. With some effort, I schooled my expression into a neutral one. Now that I knew the source of my dislike for the man, I no longer tried to suppress the feeling of loathing every time I saw him, and instead put all my energy in hiding the fact that I couldn't stand him. At one point I needed to get over it anyway. I couldn't go on living in his house like this.

Footsteps on the stairs, the door to my room burst open and then my parents stepped into the room. Jack was still holding that ridiculous ecto cannon, and I eyed it warily. My mother had pulled down her hood and goggles and looked stern. Jack just looked happy.

"Sam and Tucker," my mother said, "I think you need to go home now."

I really didn't want to let go of Sam, but she got up anyway. She hesitated, placed a quick kiss on my lips and walked to the door, followed by Tucker. They both shot me a sympathetic look before walking out the door, leaving me with my parents. My mother stared after them for a moment, before turning back to me. Her eyes softened.

"So you and Sam are... dating?" she asked, "How sweet!"

I blushed, then smiled. "Yeah," I said.

Maybe, just maybe she would forget about the gun because of this. After all, my cluelessness had been legendary.

"About the gun."

Or maybe not. I hung my head.

"I know," I said, "I'm sorry, mom. It won't happen again."

"No, it won't. Until further notice, you're not allowed in the lab by yourself. That means that either your father or me have to be present. The weapons vault is strictly off limits." She walked up to me and sat down on the bed. "It's for your own safety, honey." She glanced at Jack, still standing in the doorway, shuffling his feet as if he wanted to say something but had been instructed to stay silent.

"If you would like do come along on a ghost hunt, your father and I are happy to let you tag along a few times, under safe circumstances," she continued, putting her arm around my shoulders. It felt nice. "You have to understand, Danny, we're concerned about your safety. You can't just barge in there and attack a ghost like that."

"OK," I said.

I wanted to lean into her, let her hold me until I fell asleep, but of course I couldn't do that. So I remained upright, concentrating on staying that way. My mother got up and walked to the door. Jack took that as a sign.

"Did you catch the ghost?" he asked, "Do you have it?"

I glanced around for the thermos, but it wasn't there. I suspected Tucker had already emptied it in the lab.

"Nah," I said, "It got away."

He looked disappointed at that. "Don't worry, Danny," he said jovially, "We'll catch a ghost together! Father and son!"

My mother rolled her eyes and I laughed a little. They left, and just before they closed the door, my father stuck his head around the corner.

"Oh," he said, "And you're grounded."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: These are the last two chapter I'll upload before I leave. I'll be back around the 10th of august. Any reviews will be answered then. I included the next chapter because it's short and it leaves a nice evil cliffhanger for you to chew on :)

The plan is, after I get back, to sort of quickly upload the rest of the chapters and start working on 'Lost' again. I also need to study for my new job though. I hear patience is a virtue.

On a completely unrelated topic, I watched the first episode of 'Supernatural' today. How did I ever miss that series? Probably because it got drowned in all the other rubbish that's broadcast nowadays (I don't watch a lot of TV). The title should have clued me in though... What I mean to say is it's practically begging for a crossover... only I said I wouldn't do any of those. Anybody else?

* * *

SMOKESCREEN

Chapter 15

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Two days passed, and by Thursday I was feeling halfway human again. I slept a lot during those days, not only at home in my bed, but also during class. It earned me two detentions. I didn't care, because that meant more sleeping. On Thursday afternoon I finally felt well enough to go and do what I had planned to do the whole week: visit father. I had called my mother and told her about the detention. She wasn't happy with it, especially when it seemed I had to stay in school the whole afternoon. In reality, the teacher supervising detention had let us go after half an hour, saying she had something better to do she was sure we had too. Nobody complained.

Sam and Tucker had already left, and I walked to the other side of the school, to the bus stop. Normally, I would just have gone flying to Vlad's place, but that was out of the question now. I missed my powers terribly, the feeling of an ectoplasmic charged fire dancing at my fingertips, the chill that swept over me when transforming into my ghostly alter ego and the simple joy of flying. There had to be a way for me to regain all that. Surely father would help me out, he needed me, needed me to be Danny Fenton/Phantom, so nobody would go looking for the real Danny.

I took a bus that brought me close to father's estate. I still had to walk the last two miles though, all uphill, so I was sweating by the time I reached his mansion. I stood at the huge iron gate for a while, watching the place, thinking about the things that were going on in there. I shivered, and then pressed the bell.

Nothing happened at first, and I was about to try again when something suddenly grabbed me, turned me intangible and drew me through the gate. He kept holding on to me, and I felt myself being lifted of the ground, flying to the house and then phasing through the front door. Once inside, father let go of me and I landed on the floor on my back. He became visible, as Plasmius, and scowled at me.

"What are you doing here," he said, "Didn't I tell you to go and live out Daniel's life?"

"I..I.." I stuttered. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised at his cold reception, but I was. "I'm having difficulties with my ghost powers. I need them..."

"You don't need them. Just stop playing the hero. That was an annoying habit anyway."

"But the town is overrun..."

"Temporarily, my dear D17. I admit that lately ghost attacks have been ravaging the town more and more, but as mayor of Amity Park I will soon put an end to that. It will increase my popularity."

I scrambled to my feet and looked around. Everything looked the same, frighteningly normal, if a hallway filled with Packers paraphernalia is normal. It felt familiar.

"Can I see him?" I asked.

Father smirked at me. "I don't see why not," he said.

I followed him down the stairs to the basement, the spotless lab with the huge computer screen filling an entire wall. The computers were on, most of them showing screen savers of little Maddies walking around, or waving, or dancing. I shuddered.

Father walked to the sliding door and pressed the button. The window appeared, and I quickly stepped closer to look inside.

Danny was sitting on the bed. He no longer had the electrodes attached to his head. He looked tired. I pressed my face against the glass and stared at him. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I felt the hatred grow. This boy had taken my life. He was father's favorite now. I wanted to hit him, hurt him, close those dull looking, innocent blue eyes. I pressed harder against the glass.

He noticed me then. He looked up, and stared straight at me. For a moment, he looked stunned, but then I saw the reflection of my own hatred in his eyes. He jumped up, staggered for a moment and then rushed to the window.

"You." he said. I could hear his voice quite clearly, coming from a speaker next to the window. "You're me. I'm..." He winced suddenly and closed his eyes, as if in pain. "I'm..."

"Yes, Daniel, please tell us," father said.

I hadn't noticed he had moved beside me. Danny looked up at him and his shoulders shagged.

"I..I...I...," he stuttered, "I don't remember."

"Daniel." Father's voice held a warning that made me flinch. "What is your name again?"

He broke eye contact with father and stared down at his feet.

"Daniel Masters," he whispered.

Before father could react, I slammed the button underneath the one that opened the window and the door next to it opened. I rushed through it and flung myself at Danny, slamming him against the wall, my hands around his neck.

We were both human. I was way stronger. I squeezed.

In that split second before father hit me with a powerful ectoblast that flung me across the room, I looked into his eyes. I saw confusion there, fear, but also anger, hatred. He knew what was happening to him, he knew who and what I was and he loathed me for it. And yet, he didn't resist. He could have fried me right there and I would have been powerless, but he didn't. He just started choking, his hands weakly grabbing my wrists to try and pry them loose.

Then father blasted me and I ended up on the floor against the wall, dazed. Father rushed up to Danny, who threatened to topple over. He caught him, held him and then carefully escorted him to the bed. The boy sank down on it and leaned backwards, still gasping for air. Father looked concerned and was quietly consoling him. He ignored me, for which I was both glad and angry.

I pushed myself up on my hands and knees and started crawling in the direction of the door, trying to make as little sound as possible. A moment later I found out that although father had seemed to ignore me, he had still kept an eye on me. I cried out as he kicked me painfully in the ribs. Then he grabbed me by the collar and held me up, my feet dangling in the air a good two feet above the ground. His eyes were blazing red.

"You worthless piece of instable ectoplasm," he growled, "I should kill you right now."

"Then why don't you," I choked, trying to pry his hands away from my neck the same way Danny had done only moments before, without much success.

He let go of me and I landed on the floor, stumbling backwards until I hit the wall. I reached up and touched my sore neck.

"Why," I rasped, "Why don't you love me? You made me. You're my father. I was your finest creation, you said so, father, please, I'll do better, I'll..."

He backhanded me and I shut up.

"You," he said, "Are nothing. You're useless. If it weren't for the fact that I need you to distract your family and friends, you'd be dead already. In fact, I now see it would have been better had you died in that fire. At least you wouldn't have been such a nuisance."

I hung my head, pushing back the stinging feeling behind my eyes. I had failed father, again. Whatever I did, it would never be enough. I lacked power, the one thing he asked off me. Only one thing and I couldn't even do that.

"What's wrong with me?" I whimpered.

I hadn't meant to whimper like that, but I couldn't help myself. I must sound pathetic. Very unlike Danny Phantom. I was glad my friends couldn't see me like this. I started when father grabbed my arm, probably adding another set of finger shaped bruises, and yanked me out of the room. He carefully closed the door behind him and then proceeded to close the screen in front of the window. I watched Danny as he was slowly removed from sight, still sitting on the bed, looking forlorn. I felt a pang of guilt and suppressed it. This had nothing to do with me. I just needed to find a way to get back on father's good side again.

Father shoved me against one of the examination tables in the lab and hit the keyboard of one of the computers. The Maddie screen saver disappeared and a number of windows appeared, showing numbers and graphs. He clicked one of them and an image of what seemed to be a DNA strand appeared.

"Daniel Fenton never paid much attention in math or science," father said, "But I remedied that with you with the Cramtastic Plasmius. I'll use it on Daniel when he's ready, so he'll be able to understand what I'm doing here. Look. Your DNA."

The image on the screen started rotating slowly. I could clearly make out the familiar helix. Something green seemed to be attached to it, flowing over it, slightly pulsating. Then father pressed another button and suddenly the green took over, the helix all but disappeared and the glow became brighter. He hit another button, and a second window appeared, seemingly showing the same image, a rotating green DNA helix.

"The right one is yours, the left one Daniel's," father said, "Watch."

The window on the left kept showing the glowing helix, but the one on the right started to fall apart. The green coating came loose, lost its glow, flickered somewhat and then died altogether. Then, to my horror, the DNA itself started falling apart.

"What's happening?" I asked, "How come it's falling apart?"

"I don't know," father said, sounding frustrated, "This happened to all the clones. The only ones that lasted longer than a week and seemed to be stable were you and Danielle."

Danielle. My sister. I remembered her vaguely. I remembered fighting father with her, I remembered how she had betrayed father and had helped me out of the transformation chamber in which father had attempted to force me to transform. I remembered fighting father... I shook my head. That wasn't me. That had been Danny. I was Danny. I groaned, grabbed my head and tried to think of something else.

"How come she's a girl?" I asked, "If she's a clone, shouldn't she be a boy?"

"Oh," father said, sounding disinterested, "But she is a boy. Genetically. She has CAIS (1). It's extremely rare. It's a fetal development disorder. She appears female, she _is_ female, but she has XY chromosomes."

I tried to process that. I kept staring at the computer screen until father stepped in front of it and glared at me. I cringed. Suddenly I wanted out of the place. The room which had seemed so familiar, even comforting to me before suddenly appeared ominous, like the lab of a madman, meddling with genetics and clones and melting ghosts, images of Phantom, me, melting into a puddle until only the eyes remained, looking up desperately...

"For the last time," father said, "Get out of here. I don't want to see you again. Go hang with your friends, do stupid teenage things."

I swallowed. Slowly, I pushed myself away from the steel table, took a deep breath and looked into father's unforgiving eyes one last time, searching for... something. It wasn't there. Lost and betrayed, I turned to leave, but paused at the bottom of the stairs. The plan that had been in my mind since I found out that I was a clone resurfaced. I turned around.

"Father," I said.

He had already turned away from me. "Don't call me that," he said, "Only Daniel may call me that."

My mouth twitched at the mention of my rival. "Father," I repeated stubbornly.

He turned around, eyes blazing. I was sure he was about to blast me so I spoke quickly.

"What if I remove Jack Fenton."

He held back and stared at me. I stared back, trying to look defiant but failing miserably.

"What do you mean," he said slowly, "Remove."

I swallowed. Would I say it? I could say I didn't mean it, I could run up the stairs, slam the door and never return, I could try and live Danny Fenton's life. I could try and accept Jack Fenton as my father and hate my real father.

"Do you mean to say," father said, a nasty smile creeping onto his face, "That you would _kill_ Jack Fenton for me?"

My throat was dry. Not in a million years would Danny Fenton ever degrade himself like this. I wasn't Danny Fenton. I couldn't live knowing father hated me. He _had_ to accept me.

"Yes," I whispered.

I was doomed.

* * *

_(1) Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome . It exists. It was the only way I could think of that would cause Danni to be a girl._


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: If you clicked the little arrow next to the title, you've missed a chapter (I uploaded two again)

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SMOKESCREEN

Chapter 16

* * *

Dinner that evening was quiet, for once. Jack was busy with some invention next to his plate, every now and then taking a bite out of his macaroni and cheese. My mother was reading some papers and diagrams, every now and then making notes on them. Jazz was watching the both of them, no doubt gathering information on a case study on parental disregard for proper child nourishment. And I was brooding.

How to kill Jack? It had to look like an accident, I decided. That shouldn't be too hard. Some electrical overload in the lab, a shock straight through the heart. Everybody would be sad, but they would also know that it had been inevitable, they would say we were lucky he had only killed himself and not taken the rest of us with him in some huge explosion. Or maybe I could cause an explosion in one or the ectoplasmic a powered devices. That shouldn't be hard to do either. I remembered the ecto filter for the ghost portal.

I looked at him. Danny's father. Genetically, my father too. But genes don't make a father. A father is the one who raised you, loved you, trained you and tried to get you to be the best there was. And if you failed your father, you had to think up something to make it all better.

Aimlessly, I shoved my food around my plate. The encounter with father this afternoon had taken away my appetite. I wondered if Jack would turn Danny away if he ever failed him.

After dinner, I wandered into the lab after him and quietly sat down on one of the chairs. I observed him working, muttering to himself, his big hands handling small screwdrivers with uncanny precision. His black hair, the hair that I inherited from him, was lined with gray. The orange jumpsuit fitted him skin tight, accentuating his bulk. He was huge. I wondered if I would ever be that big. I was pretty small for my age now, but that could change.

My eyes wandered around the lab. Lots of equipment, stacked in corners, on shelves, in closets that would have everything tumbling out when opened. The portal. I fixed my gaze on the portal. It was hooked up at the side of it. I could unplug it, it would go down... then Jack would try to fix it, open it up. Then I could simply plug it back in...

My heart started pounding. I glanced at Jack, and he had his back to me now. Slowly, I got up from the chair and tiptoed to the portal, which was comfortably closed with huge steel doors. Green ectoplasm glowed along the edges of them.

"Danny could you hand me that voltage meter over there?"

I jumped, swirled around and almost shouted 'I didn't do it' before I realized what he had said.

"Sure dad," I squeaked, and handed him the required item.

He continued working, oblivious of my distress. I breathed out slowly and tried to steady myself. There was nothing to worry about. Even if he found my behavior strange, it wouldn't matter afterwards. He would never tell anyone. It would be an accident. Like the accident that created me less than two years ago.

I shook my head. Now was the time. I walked back to the portal, no longer trying to hide what I was doing. I moved to the side of it, grabbed the plug and yanked it out of the socket. With a sudden whine, the portal died. I jumped back.

"Dad?" I said, "Something's wrong with the ghost portal."

He turned around and looked surprised. Quickly, he dropped the tools he had been holding, causing some of them to clatter to the floor, and rushed to the portal.

"Danny, check the ecto filter," he said, grabbing another screwdriver.

"Sure dad."

He was playing right into my hands. I suppressed the smile that threatened to tug my lips and tried to look concerned.

"Ecto filter seems OK," I reported.

I watched him unscrew a panel and peer inside. Then he stuck his hand in and started rummaging through the wiring. I stepped back and edged towards the side of the portal again. The plug was laying on the floor. I stared at it for a moment, and then back at Jack. If I failed, nothing was lost, I could try again. I picked it up.

The socket.

Jack's voice, declaring that everything looked just fine, why didn't it work.

A large hand, reaching deep inside the hole of the loose panel, feeling around.

The plug in my hand.

Murderer.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: OK, I'm sorry (no I'm not), it was just too good a place to leave the story hanging for three weeks... Any reviews I haven't answered yet, I'm getting to them. Tomorrow.

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 17**

* * *

"Danny, what are you doing?"

I swirled. Jazz was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking at me with that strange expression on her face again. I was speechless. Jack looked up and looked at me quizzically. Then his face brightened.

"Oh! It's unplugged! Well done, Danny!"

Both Jack and Jazz looked at me. It took me a few seconds to realize they expected me to put it down, so that Jack could screw the panel back on before plugging it in again. Slowly, I laid the thing on the floor, trying to cover up that my hands were shaking.

"Um," I said, and then coughed to cover up the hoarseness of my voice, "I have homework."

I practically flew up the stairs, dashed through the kitchen, the living room and then all the way up to my room. I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, trying to force my ragged breathing and pounding heartbeat back to normal.

I almost got caught...

My eyes wandered around the room, my room. Again, I took in the NASA posters on the blue walls, the desk, the unmade bed. Stiffly, I walked to the bed and let myself drop down on it, face down. After a few moments, I turned my head sideways and stared at the pictures on the nightstand.

My friends, Sam and Tucker, and me standing in the middle, my arms around their shoulders, laughing. And another one, a family picture. I rolled on my back, reached out and grabbed the picture. The four of us were standing in front of Fenton Works. I didn't remember this picture being taken, of course, but we looked happy. Jack's hand was on my shoulder, and I was smiling, not minding a bit. My mother and Jazz next to us. A family.

Danny's family.

Had I really wanted to kill Jack Fenton?

A sudden spasm went through me and I curled into a ball, clutching my stomach with one hand while still holding the picture in the other. I didn't feel too good. Maybe it was a reaction from the stress. At that thought, I started laughing.

It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. And pathetic. A total loser, worse than Danny ever was. I was sure that if Danny had wanted to kill his father, he would have succeeded. The only thing I managed was giving myself a stomach ache over it. Maybe I wasn't really a murderer. I was sure I wasn't a murderer. But father was. He had encouraged me, tried to put me up to it. Then I realized he never expected me to succeed anyway. Because I was a loser. Worthless without my ghost powers.

My laughter died down. I wanted to cry but I didn't. Instead, I got up, wincing at the pain in my stomach, and retrieved my cell phone from my bag. I stared at the small screen for a while and then hit the speed dial for Sam. As it was ringing, someone knocked at my door and opened it without waiting for an answer.

"Hey Sam," I said when she answered her phone.

I pushed Jazz out of my room and closed the door behind her.

"Hey Danny, what's up? How was detention?"

"Same old same old," I said, managing to keep the tremor out of my voice, "My grounding ends tomorrow. Wanna do something together?"

"You mean ditch Tucker, just the two of us?"

I grinned, feeling better just from hearing her voice. I flopped down on my bed again and looked at the picture of the three of us. I'd have to get a picture with just her in it, I decided. We chatted for a while like we used to, and it seemed nothing had changed. But it had. It just seemed like we couldn't break old patterns. Danny's old patterns. But I could.

"I love you," I said, interrupting her story about her mother's umpteenth attempt at pink dresses.

A stunned silence, then laughter. "You too?" she asked, "We're hopeless, aren't we?"

"Hopeless," I agreed.

After that, the conversation took a distinctly different turn. After I hung up, I almost felt normal again. Normal enough to do my homework, play some Doomed and repeatedly kick Jazz out of my room anyway. I didn't know what it was she wanted to talk to me about, but I was sure I didn't want to talk to her. She hadn't really seen anything in the lab. It wasn't like I had been about to plug the stupid machine in. I had just been standing there like the idiot I was. Surely she was used to that sight. I slept mostly peacefully that night, and only once woke up to a nightmare which had me being chased by giant glowing ghost shrimp.

I woke up feeling a little light headed and achy. The feeling remained with me the whole morning. It seemed that a real virus had gotten me this time. I wasn't about to cancel my date with Sam though, so I just stuck it out, sniffing and coughing the whole morning.

I had to force myself to eat something during lunch hour, and both Tucker and Sam were conveying their concern by then. It's just a cold, I told them, nothing to worry about. But they kept nagging. It didn't help that the only thing I wanted to do was kiss Sam senseless but I couldn't. I didn't want to give her my cold.

School dragged on after that, and I felt more and more crappy as the hours advanced. Last period English from Mr Lancer was the worst. Who wants a pop quiz in the last hour of school of the week? I stared down at my empty paper, fiddling with my pen when it happened.

Something red splattered on the paper. I stared at it in surprise. Another drop. I blinked, uncomprehending.

"Danny!"

Sam's voice cut through the silence, and I looked up in surprise. People around me gasped, and Mr Lancer started towards me, an alarmed expression on his face.

"W-what?" I asked.

"Your nose is bleeding!" Sam said.

I brought my hand up and touched my nose. It turned bright red. "What the..."

"Mr Fenton!" Mr Lancer exclaimed, and then turned around. "Mr Baxter, hand me those paper towels over there please!"

Blood was now running freely from my nose and I stared at my hand, now covered in blood. People sitting close to me turned away, and I think at least one of them looked sick. A hand on my back and some paper towels shoved against my nose brought me back to reality.

"Hold this," Sam ordered.

I did as she said and let her lead me out of the room to the nurse's office. The nurse took one look at me, ordered me to lay down on the couch and pinch my nose hard so the blood flow would be stopped. She ordered Sam back to class, telling her she could come for me after school. I stayed in the nurses office, staring at the ceiling, trying to suppress my fear. The image of the DNA strands, falling apart, kept playing in my head.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked about half an hour later.

I jumped at the sudden sound of her voice. All that time, she had been sitting at her desk, reading something quietly. I had been staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, but now I turned my head to look at her. She looked back at me over her spectacles.

"OK I guess," I said, popping myself up on one arm and examining the paper towels I still had pressed against my nose. "It seems to have stopped."

She got up from her desk and motioned me to sit down on the examination table against the wall. I did as she asked, and she carefully examined my nose.

"Your nose looks fine. You weren't hit on the nose earlier?" she asked, frowning.

I shook my head.

"This ever happen before?"

"No. But I have a cold," I supplied.

She shrugged. "Could be it," she said, "I'm no doctor of course. Still, if this happens again, I suggest you see one." She pointed at the door. "Go clean yourself up. I suppose it's no use going back to class now, it's almost time. Just wait here until the bell and then go and collect your things."

I went into the deserted restrooms next to the nurse's office and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Dried blood on my unnaturally pale face. Bloodshot eyes. I leaned closer. _Really_ bloodshot eyes. Quickly, I grabbed the cloth the nurse had given me and started cleaning my face with cold water. It made me feel only marginally better. Maybe I should call off that date with Sam after all. It was just a cold. We'd have plenty of dates to look forward to. I just needed some rest.

I closed the tap, dried off my hands and opened the door to the hallway just as the bell sounded. Instantly, the school was filled with the sound of chairs being pushed back, loud voices whooping and shouting, teachers shouting louder to try and get in a last minute homework assignment. Then doors burst open and the hallway filled up with people. Nobody paid attention to me as I quickly made my way to Mr Lancer's classroom.

Half of the students had already left, the ones that were still there shot me curious glances but left me alone. Sam and Tucker were helpfully gathering my stuff.

"I'll get it," I said.

They looked up in surprise and Tucker grinned.

"You look like hell," he said helpfully.

"Thanks Tuck, love you too," I said.

And that made everything alright again. We left together, slowly walked to our traditional Friday afternoon Nasty Burger hangout, had a milkshake while watching Tucker devour a Super Size Nasty Burger with extra onions and listening to Sam's comments on how the meat in it was produced. Tucker nodded vigorously the whole time and added a story of his own that had Sam stomp off angrily, only to come back moments later with a soy milk shake which she dumped on his fries. All in all, a pleasant afternoon. It would have been even more pleasant if I hadn't felt so crappy.

"Look," I said, interrupting Tucker's angry shouts and Sam's laughter, "I'm going home. Can we do that date some other time, Sam?"

She sobered up immediately and looked at me worriedly. "I'll walk you home," she said.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I swallowed my protest when I realized I would at least have her company for a little while longer. Tucker seemed to understand, because he began muttering about techno news groups and updating PDA's. We left, waved Tucker goodbye with an "I'll call you tomorrow" and walked to my house. Once there, I craftily avoided Jack in the kitchen by asking Sam to get some sodas, rushed upstairs and laid down on my bed like the good patient I was.

"So," Sam asked, entering with the beverages, "What did the nurse say about your bleeding nose, anyway?"

"Nothing much." I opened the can. "Probably caused by the cold I have."

I looked at her longingly and she laughed. She sat down next to me and pecked me on the cheek. I pouted.

"Don't wanna catch it too," she said.

I had to agree with her so we chatted for a while, until Sam glanced at the clock.

"I'd better get going. My parents expect me home if we're not going out. You should sleep."

She said a rushed goodbye and left me laying on the bed. I laid there a while, thinking pleasant thoughts and feeling somewhat better. I got up, turned on my computer and strategically placed a box of tissues next to it. I started a new game of Doomed, but I didn't play very well and got kicked out of the game after only fifteen minutes. I coughed.

Grumbling, I grabbed some tissues and held the lot of them against my face. I coughed again, more painfully this time. More painful as in feeling like your lungs are ripped out of your body. It left me wheezing, feeling light headed. I stared at the tissues. They were red.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Sorry, this seems sort of filler-ish. Necessary though.

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 18**

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I sat down on the grass on the hill, looking out over the park. In the distance, the pond and the playground, full of shouting children and their parents. The fountain, the ice cream vendor. People jogging or walking their dog. Further away, the dust and grime of the road, heavy trucks exuding black smoke when they pulled up, the noise of honking cars. Houses, high rises on the edge of the park. Home.

I had spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon in bed, until I decided that enough was enough, I needed fresh air. I had left behind a very worried mother and Jazz. I had looked away from the worry in Jack's eyes. I didn't deserve his worry. I had planned on killing him. I was still planning on killing him, but with somewhat less enthusiasm. I did need to hurry up though. I had a feeling that I didn't just have a cold, but that I in fact was affected by my unstable ghost half. I needed father to help me.

Father. I pondered that word for a moment. He raised me. Sort of. He created me, let me grow for a few months, apparently, and then turned me into a fifteen year old boy by using the Cramtastic Plasmius. Then he erased my personality almost entirely and replaced me with Danny Fenton. A very confused, messed up, sick Danny Fenton.

I had come to the park to be away from everything, my home and my family, and to try and think things through. As time progressed, I had become more and more confused with who I was. It seemed that Vlad's machine couldn't completely erase a previous personality. Somewhere deep down I still was D17. But I didn't know which part of me that was.

A slight breeze ruffled my hair. It was warm. The grass tickled. Screams and shouts, happy laughter coming from the playground. I turned my mind to Mr Lancer's assignment, which was due on Monday.

I opened my bag and took out a notebook and pen. I flipped pages until I came to a blank one and stared at it. An empty page, ready to be filled with, what, crap about who I was? A story about my life? Some bullshit about parents and genes, or upbringing, friends, siblings? School? Teachers? The guy next door?

How do you explain who you are, when you're not even who everybody thinks you are? I was a phony, a freak. A ghost boy who couldn't use his powers. Danny Phantom without the phantom. What was left? Who was I if I wasn't Phantom?

Someone came up the hill, a familiar figure, walking fast. She was carrying her spider backpack on one shoulder, and was awkwardly holding two ice cream cones. I wondered for a moment how she had found me, but only for a moment. She knew me better than I knew myself. Or at least, she knew Danny Fenton. Maybe by knowing him she knew me too. Maybe there was so much of Danny in me that I was more him than myself. Maybe, if I tried, I could be him. If I wanted to.

She walked up to me and sat down, holding out one of the cones to me. I took it from her and quickly licked away the melting ice cream. Vanilla. I smiled.

"You still look crappy," she informed me.

I knew that. I had dark circles under my eyes, my face was gaunt and pale, my eyes looked unnaturally bright. I probably ran a fever too. The only thing I could do about it was wait and hope for the best, or try and get father to help me. Thinking about that last option dampened my mood, and I stared moodily at my ice cream.

"What are you doing?" she asked, licking her own ice cream, looking out over the park.

I shrugged. "Nothing much. Trying to do Lancer's assignment. You know, the one where we're supposed to write about who we are. Not getting anywhere though."

She glanced at the blank page in my notebook. "I wouldn't worry about it. It isn't due till Monday."

"I know, but I wanted to do it now, get it over with. I hate doing these things. I never know what to write about." Especially not now. "I can hardly write 'hi, I'm Danny Fenton, also known as Danny Phantom. Yup, that's me. I'm half ghost."

"Aren't we supposed to write about our parents or something, about what shaped us? Some sort of biography?"

"Maybe." I stared at the paper. I coughed, quickly retrieved a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my mouth. No blood. "But what makes us who we are, Sam?"

She leaned against me and I felt the warmth of her body seep into me. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and on impulse, hugged her fiercely. I felt I was adrift in the crazy meal stream that was my life, and was clutching at straws to stay afloat. She was a very nice straw to clutch.

"Parents. Friends. Upbringing," Sam said, "Genetics. Events. School."

"But what is the most important? What if... someone's adopted or something. Would it be genetics or upbringing?"

"Both, of course. It's always everything combined. Chemistry. Put everything in a bowl and stir, then look at what you've got. Why are you getting so worked up about it? Just put something in about your parents, where you went to school, who your friends are, and you're done. It's an easy assignment, I've already finished it."

I stared moodily at the notebook. It was only an assignment. Why _was_ I getting so worked up about it? It wasn't like it mattered, was it? I was Danny Fenton. I should write about him. Me. He was me. I growled in frustration and threw the notebook on the grass.

"What about parents?" I asked after a moment of silence, "You hate your parents. You're everything they are not. How can you say your parents shaped you?"

"I don't hate my parents," Sam said. She looked down at the ground and tugged at the grass. "I... dislike... how they treat me, how they try to pressure me to be something I'm not. It's their way of showing their love for me, I guess. I just would like for them to let me be my own person and still love me. I think they do. I love them. I just can't be in one room with them."

I laughed a little. "How many?" I asked.

She grimaced. "Three. She bought three dresses, one pink, one light blue and one white." She looked at me curiously. "What's wrong between you and your father?"

She had noticed. I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting the rays of the afternoon sun warm me.

"He... annoys me sometimes," I said.

Sam laughed. "He annoys everybody. But we still love him."

My eyes shot open and I looked at her. She was smiling, looking at me.

"A bit like you," she said, "You look like him you know."

"I do not look like him," I said.

I didn't. I wasn't a half witted bulky imbecile who stole away my mother from my father, I wasn't loud and obnoxious and obsessed with fudge. He had caused father to be unhappy, and if father was unhappy then I was unhappy too.

"Yes you do," Sam said. She placed a hand on my arm. "You are both kind and a bit goofy, and you're driven in what you do, you're both smart but you don't show it much... I could go on forever. Why do you think you don't look like him? He's your father. He raised you. You inherited half of his genes."

He didn't raise me. That was the difference. Father – Vlad – raised me. Made me hate my biological father. I tried to think back on my time with Vlad, when I had been living with him, but the memory of that was hazy, unreal. Danny Fenton's memories had replaced them, pushed them to the background, almost irretrievable. Only the image of Vlad praising me whenever I hit the Jack Fenton targets was there.

For the first time, I started to question father's actions. What was I to him? I was a tool, a means to an end. I wasn't his son. I might have become his son at some point, if I had been stable. I wasn't. I was flawed. Weren't parents supposed to love their children even if they were flawed?

An immense feeling of loss flowed through me. For the second time that week, my life seemed to turn around, every certainty a fake, everything I knew shattering in front of my eyes. Vlad didn't love me. He would never love me. Jack Fenton did love me. And I hated him. With a passion. Because I wasn't really Danny Fenton. Because I was _made_ to hate him.

I was made.

I looked down at my hands, moved my fingers a little. I could feel the warmth of the sun, the tickling of the grass, the slight itch from a scrape on my thumb. Father made me, created me as one of his tools, as one of his many machines or devices to get what he wanted. And what he ultimately wanted was marry my mother and as a bonus have Danny as his son. People don't love their tools. Generally. And most certainly tools don't love their masters. Then again, tools usually didn't have feelings either.

I shivered. Father. Vlad. I didn't remember being 'born', being created. At some point, I just was. He beat me into obedience, and I had looked up to him because he was the only father I had ever known, and his approval, his love had been the ultimate goal. No longer. A cold fear gripped me. I was going to denounce father. I refused to be his minion any longer. I would be my own person.

I looked up and caught Sam staring at me, a worried frown on her face. I realized I had been sitting there for a while, staring down, unmoving. I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Yet I felt I had to do something, let her know the decision I had reached, without actually giving away what I had been contemplating.

Shakily, I grabbed her hand and looked down at it, playing with her fingers. At least I knew where I stood with her. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe, if I loved her enough, everything would be alright. I could learn to accept Jack as my father. I could be with my mother, I loved her. I could try and talk to Jazz. Live Danny's life. Be happy. Forget D17 ever existed.

There was only the tiny matter of me falling apart.


	19. Chapter 19

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 19**

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I finished my hastily written story about myself with a flourish, laying on my stomach on the grass. Sam was laying next to me on her back, her eyes closed. I looked at her for a while, then tore some grass from the ground and let it rain on her face. She coughed and spluttered and sat up.

"Oh yeah, Danny, real mature."

I laughed. It felt good. I hadn't realized how tense I had been the whole week. The whole cloning business had taken a severe toll on my life. No more. I had decided. I was Danny Fenton. I was having the time of my life. With almost no effort at all I squashed the thought about the real Danny not having the time of his life.

"I'm finished," I declared, rolling on my back, "Let's go to the mall or something, play some games."

She looked down at me. "You feel better?"

"Yup."

I did feel better. A lot better, actually. It seemed it had been the stress from the past week that had caused my 'illness'. Now that everything was settled and back into its proper place, things were looking up again. I could beat this. It was probably my body trying to readjust to not having ghost powers. I wondered why I hadn't thought of this reassuring explanation before. I wasn't dying. I couldn't be dying. I had too much to live for.

And then I made a fatal mistake. I handed her the notebook.

She took it and quickly scanned my almost illegible handwriting, frowning and nodding. I sat up, snuggled close to her and started stroking her hair. I felt slightly light headed.

"OK, looks good," Sam said.

She turned a few pages to look at what I had written earlier. I didn't pay attention, way too happy with her close proximity.

"Danny...?"

"Hmm?" I said, still not alarmed by the tone of her voice.

"What's this?"

I leaned over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. And froze. My notes on my classmates. My guide on who was who. With descriptions on which class they were in, what they looked like and how they knew Danny.

"Um," I said.

I couldn't think of anything to say. What could be a plausible reason for Danny to keep notes on his classmates? Why would he write about himself in third person? Why hadn't I torn out that particular page after I didn't need it anymore?

My hesitation was an answer in itself.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

I tried to take the notebook from her but she scooted away from me and held it against her chest.

"Sam, come on," I said, "It's just some notes. I had... problems remembering. Because of the concussion."

She looked at me suspiciously, but eased her grip on the notebook somewhat. My hand shot forward, I yanked it out of her hands and closed it. She stared at me.

"You've been acting strange," she said.

"I know, I'm sorry." I coughed. "It's been a strange week."

My heart was hammering in my chest with a vigor that couldn't be healthy. I was sure Sam would be able to see it trying to break free from my chest.

"You were melting."

Nonono, she wasn't going there. Not now. Not now that I had finally figured out who I really was. Not while I had mentally denounced Vlad and had accepted the fact that Jack Fenton was indeed my father. Not now that I had decided that my love for Sam was all that mattered in the world.

"Clones melt."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"No," I said.

I had intended for it to sound strong and confident. It came out as a pathetic whisper. She scrambled to her feet and backed away from me.

"You're a clone." Panic suddenly spread on her face. "Vlad has Danny! Ever since... ever since that fire! You... you used me!"

"No, Sam, no!" I jumped to my feet also and staggered a bit. "I'm Danny! I can be Danny!" I looked at her pleadingly. "I love you!"

She kept backing away. "You used me... _seduced_ me... told me what I wanted to hear, put me to sleep..."

"Sam..."

"Put everybody to sleep... only Jazz thought there was something wrong but I wouldn't listen to her..."

Jazz had been on to me? I remembered her suspicion, remembered the way she had looked at me when I had been about to plug in the ghost portal in an attempt to kill my father, her insistence on wanting to talk to me afterwards... What exactly did she suspect? How was I going to salvage this? Sam knew...

"Sam please." I stepped closer to her. She backed away, keeping an equal amount of distance between us. "I don't want to hurt you."

She paled. What did I just say?

"I-I mean," I stuttered, "I'd never hurt you! Of course I wouldn't hurt you! I love you!"

The both of us were still moving, her walking backwards, me advancing on her.

"Come on, Sam, we were good together. We had a great time. Danny would never have asked you out. He's too clueless..."

I was getting angry. How could this happen now, when I had become Danny after all, now that I had chosen their side? Didn't she see she was better off with me – well, except for the part where my ghost side was failing –, that my being here guaranteed that Vlad would leave us alone, would leave Jack alone? Didn't she see that I loved her?

"Sam, come on," I said, more forcefully this time.

I raised my hand and made to grab her arm but she evaded me and jumped back once more.

"You...," she said, her voice cracking. "You... piece... of... worthless ectoplasm..."

I flinched. Unknowingly, she had just repeated Vlad's words almost verbatim.

"How could you," she continued. She wrapped her hands around her chest, staring at me with wide eyes. "You're... you're his brother. You betrayed him. For Vlad, of all people. How could you think I would be alright with this? How can _you_ be alright with this?"

She would have been alright with it if she hadn't discovered the truth. I swallowed and looked at the growing anger in her eyes. Anger that would turn to hate. My anger subsided, leaving... nothing. I felt empty again, lost. She must have seen the guilt in my eyes, because she clenched her fists, her mouth becoming a straight line.

"I didn't have a choice," I said, and was slightly dismayed by the pleading tone of my voice. "Father... Vlad made me do it. But I... but I thought... I decided that... I couldn't do it, Sam, I can't be his pawn anymore, I love you..."

I stepped closer again, and she remained where she was so I now was only three feet away from her. I didn't try to grab her again though.

"I'm Danny," I said, "Look, see? I have his body, I have his memories, I'm him. I don't want to be Vlad's minion, I want to be my own person."

"Your own person?" She looked at me incredulously. "Your own person? You're not your own person! You're trying to be Danny! And. You're. Not!"

She turned and ran. She dashed down the slope, running as if the devil was on her heels. I watched her go, feeling my heart tear apart. When she reached the bottom of the hill she stopped briefly and turned around, raising her fists, obviously having expected me to chase her down. She looked up at me. I just stood there, my hands hanging limply by my side. She looked both afraid and angry. In a flash, I saw myself reflected in her eyes, a lone figure on the hill, an imposer, a decoy, the force of evil, wedging itself into her life... Vlad's accomplice. Not Danny. Never Danny.

Unable to look at her anymore, I turned around and left.

She would go and tell Tucker and Jazz. And then the three of them would most likely tell my parents. Danny's parents. I strode down the hill on the other side, hardly watching where I was going. Once down, I looked up, realizing I had left my bag. Danny's bag. Danny's life.

I shook my head. I'd leave the bag, I wouldn't be needing it anymore. I would never go back to school anyway. Or go back home. Everything was cut off from me. I felt strangely numb. I should have known this would happen eventually, that everything would come crashing down on me. I was a fake, a copy. I could never live up to the original. It had been a matter of time. I didn't know how I could have hoped to take Danny's life. Like he had taken mine.

A wave of anger hit me and I stopped, letting out a soft growl. An elderly woman who was sitting on the bench I was passing looked up at me in alarm, and I quickly moved away. I glanced back at her and found her still staring at me with huge, frightened eyes. I turned and ran.

I ran out of the park, down the road running along side of it, past the school. I stopped when I reached the end of the football field, gasping and wheezing. I looked back. The three story building that was Casper High School rose up behind the bleachers, solid and down to earth. My life. I was looking at my life. My eyes scanned over the building, the trees next to it, the familiar road that I used to walk down. Buildings across the street, office buildings, houses. All still there, still the same. But different. They were no longer part of my life.

Danny's life. I never had a life.

I leaned against the fence and looked around. The pain in my chest worsened. I knew that when I coughed, there would be blood, so I tried to suppress it. I ended up making some sort of choking sound. When I managed to get my breathing under control again I inspected the handkerchief I had pressed against my mouth. Only a slight, pinkish discoloring. I decided it was nothing to worry about, for now. I had other things on my mind. Like, where to go.

I straightened and felt my pockets. Only a handful of change, maybe enough to buy me a Nasty Burger, but not much more. I blinked a couple of times to dissipate the white dots that were flashing in front of my eyes and started walking away from the school, not really choosing a direction or with a definite goal in mind, but just to have something to do. Staying in one place would attract attention.

Would they try to track me down? I frowned at that. Would they treat me like a malicious ghost, would they hate me enough to try and shoot me down? I had been their friend these past weeks... but they had thought I was Danny. Yes, they would definitely try to shoot me down. I'd better try and stay away from them.

I didn't pay attention to where I was going, I just walked wherever my feet took me. Every now and then I glanced around, seeing the neighborhoods I was passing going shabbier, more run down. I had never been to this part of town before. Cars were passing me, old cars that sounded like there was something wrong with them. Grass and weeds growing in cracks in the concrete of the sidewalk. Boarded up houses alternated by run down apartment buildings with open doors that lead to a darkness I didn't want to contemplate. An old man, sitting on the curb, singing, holding a bottle that contained a brown liquid.

I continued walking. Houses became more sparse. Large open areas, fenced off, remains of demolished buildings. The evening sun was still warm. Sweat trickled down my face. I couldn't go on much longer.

And then I reached the edge of town. It was quite sudden, one moment I was walking down the road and the next the road just stopped, a high fence blocking the way to a heavily overgrown area and the remains of an old factory.

The end of the road. I didn't stop to think, I just moved to the side of the road where there was an opening in the fence and squeezed myself through it. Then I continued my way on the crumbling concrete that made up the area surrounding the run down buildings. Grass and weeds were growing here too in the cracks, in even more abundance than the sidewalk I had been on earlier. Piles of overgrown rubble, some old, rusty oil drums, the remains of wooden crates, dark with age. I made my way to the entrance of what seemed to have been some sort of office building and pushed open the old, steel doors. The cracking of the hinges echoed through the building.

Inside, the air was cool, almost cold. Sunlight from the setting sun was shining through the windows of what seemed to be some sort of reception area, lighting up the walls in the back, behind what remained of the counter where the receptionist would have been sitting.

I coughed again. Sluggishly, I moved to the back and entered one of the doors that lead to some office. Soda and beer cans everywhere, Nasty Burger wrappings, half burnt candles. A filthy mattress in the corner, with two clearly used but old syringes on the floor next to it.

My breathing came in gasps now. This was not the place to be. But I needed to stop and lay down. I staggered to the mattress and simply let myself drop down on it, face down. When I smelled the thing, I quickly rolled to my side. For a while, I listened to my breathing, not thinking much of anything. Then I wondered if the place would stay empty that night. I tried to push myself up but stopped when I notice the red drops that were falling from my nose.

With a groan, I rolled on my back and pinched my nose while searching my pockets for the handkerchief with my other hand. Once I found it, I pressed it against my face and waited for the bleeding to stop. Last time, it had taken a half hour. I stared at the filthy ceiling until the last rays of the sun died and dusk set in. The room darkened quickly. I wished I hadn't come here. I wished I had thought to buy a bottle of water.

My vision blurred. I wished I wasn't so completely and utterly alone.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Cordria uploaded a nice little one shot about melting that tops this story by about a mile but I guess you've all read that already (is there anybody out there _not_ reading her stories?) Anyway she made me get off my lazy butt and edit the next chapter so you can all thank her.

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**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 20**

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_Bright lights, shining down on me, hurting my eyes. I pulled on the straps and whimpered, knowing it was no use, he wouldn't untie me, wouldn't let me go until he was done, but I couldn't help myself. I felt the cold of the stainless steel table on my bare back, going slippery from my sweat. Cold sweat. I wasn't warm. I was terrified._

"_Hold still."_

_Father's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, but I knew he was there, somewhere behind those bright lights. I tried to do what he said, but somehow couldn't keep myself from shaking. I didn't want this._

"_Father..." I said, "Please. I..."_

"_Stop whining. Do you want to melt too?"_

_That shut me up. I definitely didn't want to melt like my brother. I turned my head sideways and squinted at the containment chamber in the corner of the lab, trying to blink away the blue dots dancing before my eyes. There wasn't much to see, though. He was just a shadow now, a black form with glowing red eyes, hovering quietly. He had been my twin, we had been so alike it had been scary, save for the eyes. His were red. Mine were green._

_A sharp sting in my arm brought me back to reality and my current predicament. Father had put a needle in my arm, a needle attached to a syringe containing something pink, softly glowing. My arm started tingling. My breathing sped up._

"_This should do it," father said pensively, turning away from me._

_He walked over to the computer at the desk and started typing. I tried to stay still. I looked up at the lights again. My arm jerked. My leg twitched. My body was tingling all over, little pinpricks on my skin. I kept telling myself this would help me, this would make me better, that I just had to lay still and bear it, but I couldn't stop myself. Something was shoved into my mouth, wedged between my teeth, a far away voice telling me to bite it lest I bite my tongue off, and then the world burst into a myriad of colors and all I could do was scream._

When I opened my eyes, it was dark. Somebody was moaning, and it took me a few seconds to realize I was making that pitiful sound. I stopped. Slowly, I regained control over my breathing, willing myself to take slow, measured breaths instead of short, panicked gasps. I flinched at the coppery taste in my mouth, and realized I had bitten my tongue.

I had no idea what time it was, and I let my eyes wander around the moonlit room. I didn't know what woke me up, but I had the feeling it had been some sort of sound. It was quiet now. There were no major roads nearby, and the forest that started right behind the factory was asleep.

With some effort, I pushed myself up, pleased to notice that I wasn't as weak as I had been before. The sleep had restored some of my energy. Not enough though, as I found out when I tried to sit up. Waves of nausea washed over me, and only the fact that my stomach was completely empty kept me from spilling its contents next to the filthy mattress. After the nausea subsided somewhat, I dragged myself up in a sitting position with my back against the wall.

Sleeping obviously wasn't solving my little DNA problem. I wondered if I was really dying. I wondered what had happened to Danielle, my sister-brother. I wondered what had happened to the other clones. I vaguely remembered D16, the black shadow that had attacked me in the department store. He had been a brother also, deformed by the DNA degeneration. Would I end up like that? A mindless shadow, destined to end in a puddle of ectoplasm?

Something clanked outside. I jerked up and tried to stand. Maybe the junks that had been using this room had returned. I didn't want to face them. They might not mind my being here, but I couldn't take the chance of some drug-crazed psycho storming in here and accusing me of trespassing. I had no way to defend myself.

Then something hit me on the head and I almost fell down again. With a clank, the thing that had hit me fell down on the floor in front of me. Rubbing my head, I stared at the shining, boomerang shaped metal object.

"What the..." I muttered, bending over to pick it up.

"Oh. It's you."

A bright light suddenly shone in my eyes. I jumped back against the wall and put my arm over my eyes to shield them from the blinding light. I tried to see who was behind the torch, but all I could make out were some dark figures, standing in the doorway.

"Do you mind?" I asked hoarsely.

I tried to stand straight, but found myself swaying. The person holding the torch seemed to hesitate, obviously unwilling to accommodate me in any way, but then he or she lowered it and started exploring the room.

"Nice place you got yourself here."

This time I recognized the voice. I hadn't before, because I had been used to his happy joking, taking nothing serious, teasing tone of voice. Now, however, Tucker was dead serious. And he didn't like me. I blinked my eyes a few times to try and get rid of the blue dots that were dancing in front of me and tried to see his face. Then, the person next to him stepped forward and lit her torch.

"Sam," I said, "I'm sorry."

The pain in my chest was back, and I wasn't sure which part of it had to do with my instability and which part was the sheer pain of losing her. I looked at her face, the dark shadows on it, her mouth set in a thin line, and I knew she would always look at me that way. I looked down at the floor.

"What do we call you?"

Jazz's voice. I tried to see past Tucker and Sam to see the redhead behind them.

"D17," I said.

Silence in the room. None of us seemed to know what to do. Slowly, my eyes went back to normal and I could just make out the ecto guns the three of them were holding. Not a comforting sight. They weren't pointing them at me though. Yet.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "Are you gonna shoot me or what?"

They looked at each other. I leaned against he wall and crossed my arms in what I hoped was a defiant pose. I probably looked pathetic.

"We were looking for Danny," Tucker said, glancing down at the boomerang shaped object on the floor.

"With that?"

"It's the Boooomerang. It's tuned in to Danny's ectoplasmic DNA signature. Apparently, you have the same signature..."

"Duh. I'm his clone. We have the same DNA."

I coughed. I really needed to sit down. I remained standing however, feeling that if I sat down they'd get the upper hand. As if they didn't have that already. Those guns would seriously hurt me.

"Why?" Sam asked.

My heart went out to her. She sounded forlorn, lost, very unlike the Sam I knew and loved. I wanted to go to her, hug her and tell her it was alright, but of course I couldn't do that. With some difficulty, I kept my face impassive.

"Isn't it obvious?" Tucker said, "He distracted us while Vlad kidnapped Danny. Who knows what he's done to him during these two weeks."

An unsmiling, serious Tucker holding an ecto gun was not a pretty sight when being on the wrong side of said gun. I stared back at him, suppressing another coughing fit.

"I don't understand," Sam said, and I was glad to see a tinge of anger back on her face, "Why didn't Vlad just keep you? Why did he need Danny?"

Jazz now pushed past Sam and approached me, a stern expression on her face. I tried to shrink back from her, but knew better than to use my intangibility to phase through the wall. Her green eyes bore into mine, and then she looked down at my bloodstained shirt and jeans.

"You're unstable," she declared.

All sorts of smart-ass remarks popped into my head, in various degrees of nastiness. I kept my mouth shut and nodded.

"Vlad discarded you. What did he promise you, D17, that you'd be able to return some day? Maybe in exchange for..." Her voice faltered for a moment. "In exchange for dad's life?"

She knew. That day in the lab, when I had been holding the plug and she had come in, she had guessed correctly what I had been about to do. How could I have thought I could outsmart Jazz Fenton? It suddenly struck me as funny. How could _Vlad_ have thought he could outsmart Jazz Fenton? A laugh swelled up in me. With a thud, I sat down on the filthy mattress again. I laughed and laughed, tears streaming down my face. Then Sam stepped forward and slapped me. My laughter turned into a coughing fit.

I fell down on my side and desperately groped for my handkerchief, which was already so bloodstained that a few drops more wouldn't be obvious. And once again I was wrong. This time, a distinct greenish hue drenched the sodden piece of cloth. I wasn't just coughing up blood, I was coughing up ectoplasm. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the world, hoping I wasn't crying ectoplasm from my eyes as well.

Shouts in alarm, voices coming from far away, somewhere outside the circle of pain I was in. This was getting really annoying. I wished they would go away and leave me in peace. Then, suddenly, I became afraid that they would so I opened my eyes and stared right into Jazz's worried face. She said something, her lips moved, but the sound of her voice was strangely distorted.

She turned around and said something to either Tucker or Sam, I couldn't see, and then she started pulling me up into a sitting position. Somebody patted me on the back, and someone else held a bottle of water close to my lips. I grabbed it and took a careful sip in between coughs. The cool water soothed my sore throat and it felt wonderful. Slowly, I managed to get the coughing under control.

"Thanks," I gasped.

"You're sick," Jazz said.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall, concentrating on my breathing. Beside being a smart-ass, Jazz definitely had a talent for stating the obvious.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

Tucker waved the Boooomerang in front of me. "We told you..."

"Looking for Danny. He's not here. Why are you still here? If you're gonna shoot me, just get it over with so I can die in peace instead of slowly bleeding to death or suffocate because my lungs give up."

"You're dying?" Sam seemed torn between her anger at me and her dismay at someone looking so much like her crush at the verge of death.

Was I dying? I had pushed that thought away, but I suppose she was right. I was already short of breath, and it seemed I was steadily getting worse. Unstable DNA. I had no idea what it would do to a person, but this could very well be it.

"Probably," I said.

"Why are _you_ here?" Jazz asked.

"Dunno. The road just kind of stopped and I was tired."

"No, I mean, why don't you go to Vlad? He can help you."

The syringe with the pink gooey jumped into my mind. Had it helped before? I didn't know, I couldn't remember the outcome of the experiment, the memory was just gone. But I sincerely doubted it. Vlad wouldn't have discarded me otherwise, would he? In any case, he would definitely not help me. In fact, Danny Fenton appearing to be dead in a drug hole would serve his purpose perfectly.

I chose my words carefully. "Vlad has Danny."

"Did you see him?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"What do you mean, where? At his mansion, of course."

The thee of them looked at each other. Jazz shook her head.

"You're lying. We searched the place that day when we visited. We would have seen him, we were in every room," she said.

"He has a secret compartment in his lab," I said, "It must have some sort of shield around it if you can't pick up Danny's signature. He's there."

I pulled up my legs and hugged them. I felt marginally better and looked longingly at the bottle of water Sam was still holding. She saw me looking, hesitated for a moment and then handed me the bottle. I took a small sip and handed it back, trying a small smile. Bad move. She scowled and I quickly looked away.

"H-how is he?" Sam asked.

I kept my eyes on the opposite wall. "Not good."

"What is that maniac doing to him?" Tucker asked angrily, "Danny would never submit to Vlad?"

There was a very interesting crack in the wall just above the door. I only now noticed it in the light of the torches. It was shaped like Florida. I tilted my head somewhat and closed one eye to see if it would change into something else. Someone grabbed my chin and forced me to look in her eyes. Jazz.

"Seventeen," she hissed angrily, and I cringed, "You are going to tell us how to get into Vlad's mansion, and you're going to tell us how to find Danny!" She shoved me back. "And he'd better be alright!"

I rubbed my chin, staring at three pairs of angry eyes. I supposed I could help them. It wouldn't earn me their trust, but maybe Sam would stop looking at me that way. And with Danny out of the way, maybe Vlad would take me back? Maybe, just maybe, another shot of that pink gooey would keep me alive a little bit longer... A tiny spark of hope lit up deep inside of me. I could save Danny. Maybe I could save myself too. At least I could squash the guilty feeling I had every time I thought of him.

"Why?" I asked, stalling.

"What do you mean, why!" Sam yelled, "You can't let Danny suffer like that! Two weeks! Two whole weeks! And we didn't know, because of you! You sneaked into our lives, you let us think he was alright, while in reality... Ugh! Did you really try to kill your father?"

I was confused for a moment until I realized she meant Jack Fenton. I didn't answer. If I said yes, they might kill me on the spot, if I said no they wouldn't believe me and call me a liar and still kill me on the spot.

"How could you?" Jazz asked, "Even if he didn't raise you, genetically, he's your father."

"Just drop it," I said, "I didn't kill him. I'm dying. Leave me be. Go find your Danny, he's down in the lab, right next to that humongous computer screen at the back. There's a button on the wall, just press it."

I didn't want to give in too easily. They were silent. I stared at them. Tucker looked angry, Jazz pressed her lips together and Sam was scowling. She spoke up, the words sounding as if she had to grind them out of her mouth.

"We need your help."

I waved my bloody red-green handkerchief in front of her face, and she leaned back, disgusted. OK, so it was disgusting. I didn't care.

"Hello," I said, "Which part of 'unstable ghost DNA' didn't you understand? I can't help you. If I use my powers, I'll melt."

"You're dying anyway."

I turned my head towards Jazz in amazement. Her face was grim, her eyes hard. Jazz was the most caring girl I knew. She was the kind of person to try and save a fly trapped in the house, chasing it for hours until she managed to chase it out of an open window. But the way she looked at me now told me I was way below flies on her 'living creatures' list.

She was right, though. I had nothing to loose and everything to gain.

I took a deep breath. "Help me up," I said.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: OK. You've all been guessing and posing theories on what was going on and what was going to happen (love that). Some were right, others way off. I haven't seen anybody guessing correctly how it's gonna end though. So a challenge. Whoever guesses correctly (or semi correctly, or close, or whatever) what will happen to the clone and Danny gets that huge piece of leftover apple pie in my refrigerator (of course, I'll have to eat it for you but I'll tell you how it tasted, OK?).

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 21**

* * *

It was three in the morning, and still very dark. We were standing outside Vlad's estate, a little bit away from the main entrance and the surveillance cameras there. Jazz's car was parked at the end of the road, behind some bushes. The fence was high, and the barbed wire on top of it uninviting. It would be very hard to get in there. For a human.

Jazz, Sam and Tucker were standing beside me, and expectant look on their faces. They had told my parents I was staying at Sam's place, so they hadn't missed me yet. Once we got Danny out, they'd take him home and figure out what to do with him. I had told them about the Cramtastic Plasmius, what it could do. I hadn't told them it had been used to brainwash me into thinking I was Danny Fenton, and that finding out I wasn't had been as much as shock to me as it had been to them. That information seemed pointless now. I didn't think they'd believe me anyway. I could almost taste the waves of hostility coming from Sam, Tucker and Jazz.

I looked at them. The relative cool of the night made me shiver and I rubbed my arms. They expected me to phase them through the fence. A brief burst of intangibility would probably not kill me right away. However, I had no intention of doing that. I had gotten myself into this mess, not initially of course, but I definitely could have handled things differently.

Vlad had created a Danny. I had his genes, and somewhere buried deep down inside of me, without him realizing it, he had imprinted Danny's morals into me too. Danny would never have tried to take my life, had things been the other way around. I had managed to suppress my conscience for a while, had tried to do Vlad's bidding, and maybe I would have had no problems if Vlad hadn't discarded me, hadn't experimented on me, hadn't made me take a good look at myself. The irony of it all struck me, and I would have laughed if that didn't hurt so much.

There was no way I was going to put my friends in danger. Before any of them could react, I stepped away from them, willed myself intangible and phased through the fence. Once inside, I immediately materialized and stumbled forward. I caught myself before I could fall down and leaned my hands on my knees for a moment. I coughed and spluttered, spitting out blood and ectoplasm and blinked a few times to clear my vision.

"Seventeen!" Jazz whispered angrily from behind the fence, "What are you doing! You're supposed to take us with you!"

I looked up. She was clenching her fists around the bars, her knuckles going white. She was furious.

"No I'm not," I said, "Just wait here. I'll get him out."

"You'll go straight to Vlad!" Sam almost shouted, "You filthy double crossing..."

"Sam..."

"...no good ectoplasmic..."

"Sam, please."

"...total waste of ghostly space!"

I stepped closer to the fence and in an unexpected move thrust my hands through the space between the bars and managed to grab her hands. She tried to jerk them away but I to held on. It was nice to touch her again.

"I love you," I said, "I wish I was Danny Fenton. Then you'd love me back. I'm sorry."

I let go of her and stepped back. The three of them kept glaring at me, but there wasn't anything they could do about it.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

I turned around and started working, stumbling, my way through the bushes. When I looked back, they had disappeared from sight. I let out a sigh of relief. I don't think I could have stood more of their hateful glares at me. Especially Sam. I stopped for a moment and leaned against a tree, watching Vlad's mansion through the leaves of the undergrowth. A vague memory surfaced, a memory of playing in the garden I was standing in, a multi-colored ball, laughter...

A sob rose in my throat. I suppressed it.

The house was dark. It would be, it was almost three fifteen. Surely father... Vlad would be asleep? I let my eyes wander over the dark shape of the house, searching for... security cameras. Again I racked my brain. It was there, a memory, but frustratingly elusive. But there were security cameras, I was sure of that, maybe even motion detectors, who knew. I didn't think Vlad had any ghost shield, however. Ghosts didn't attack Vlad. They worked for him.

I waited for a bit, letting my heartbeat slow down, steadying my breathing and telling myself that the ache in my chest was from the pain of losing Sam. Then I concentrated and willed myself invisible. After a few terrifying moments in which waves of nausea washed over me, I managed to pull myself together – literally – and walked quietly over to the dark structure. Once there, I glanced up. Sure enough, a security camera mounted on the wall, overseeing the yard. I was right underneath it. I turned visible and leaned against the wall.

This had been the easy part. Without waiting, afraid that I would back down and flee, I moved through the wall. I materialized in the dark library. The only light came from under the door to the hallway. I let myself sink to the floor and resisted the urge to curl into a ball and just pass out. Vlad would find me and kill me if I did that, or worse he would, in Tucker's words, sit down and enjoy watching me melt. I would not give him that satisfaction. I would melt on my own somewhere.

For a while, I just laid there, waiting for the weakness in my arms and legs to subside. I had strained myself by just getting in. How was I going to get myself out of there again, let alone rescue Danny, who undoubtedly was well guarded? What had I been thinking? Why hadn't I just listened to Jazz and Tucker and Sam and let them handle it? Still that stubborn, 'let me handle this' superhero act?

I chuckled and then coughed. One terrifying moment I thought I would succumb to another painful coughing fit, which would not only attract attention but also had a high probability of killing me. I clenched my jaw and grabbed the legs of the small side table I was laying next to, willing myself to calm down and breathe evenly. Eventually the urge to puke my lungs out eased. With some difficulty, I let go of the table and pushed myself up. I had to get going.

Carefully keeping my thoughts about what could happen to me after I rescued Danny out of my mind, I made my way to the door, noticing that I was considerably more out of breath than I had been before. It was only a few steps, and already I was panting. For a moment I had a vision about my lungs filling up with blood, but I pushed it away. Later. I would think about it later. Now, I had to focus. I pushed open the door and blinked from the sudden brightness. I hesitated.

The light in the hallway worried me. It could be that he had just forgotten to turn it off, but I didn't think so. The man was obsessive, always turning off the light whenever he left a room. The house was immaculately clean. He had imprinted that obsession onto me, made me almost as obsessive as he was, but for a different reason. Vlad liked things orderly. I just feared his wrath.

I opened the door further and peered into the hallway. Almost immediately I spotted the open door across the hallway, leading to the basement. My heart sank. Vlad was down there. I stood there a long time, listening intently, trying to work up the courage to cross the hallway to take a look in the lab. If Vlad was really down there, there wasn't anything I could do. I couldn't fight him, even if I wanted to. I was too weak, no ghost powers to speak off and a failing health that made me dizzy and slow. But even if I had been strong, I wasn't sure I would fight him. He had power over me. If he talked to me, I would do whatever he said.

I needed a distraction.

Slowly I closed the door, putting myself in relative darkness again. The darkness was comforting somehow, as if the lack of light would somehow protect me. I walked to one of the windows that overlooked the driveway and peered outside. I could just make out the huge iron gate at the end of the driveway. I pulled out my phone and dialed Sam's number.

She answered with an annoyed, "Yes, what is it!"

"It's me," I whispered. I didn't dare say I was Danny.

"I know. What are you doing!"

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried not to let her hostile tone of voice get to me. "I need a distraction."

After I explained to her what I wanted, I tiptoed to the door again, opened it to a small crack that allowed me to look into the hallway and waited. It took them only a few moments. I was hardly in position, when a loud buzzer sounded in the hallway, making me jump. The annoying sound echoed through the quiet house and would have woken the dead. Or half dead. Sam – or one of the others, but I was pretty sure it was Sam – pressed the button at the gate again, and this time, leaned on it. It grated my nerves. Nobody could ignore this.

I heard an angry shout coming from the basement, and then hasty footsteps on the stairs. I drew back a little. The last thing I wanted was for Vlad to see me. That would be not only the end of me but also of Danny. I watched Vlad rush to the door, yank it open and storm out into the night. I stepped out into the brightly lit hallway, feeling very exposed, and slowly walked to the front door as well. I peered outside. Vlad was already halfway down the driveway. From the way he walked, I could see he was very angry. I cringed. I didn't want to be on the receiving end of that anger. Luckily, Sam, Tucker and Jazz were made of stronger material. Even before Vlad had reached them, I heard her loud voice, demanding entrance, demanding to see Danny.

Now or never.

I left the door and ran – well, shuffled – to the basement as fast as I could. By the time I had rushed down the stairs and had crossed the lab to the closed sliding wall that hid the secret compartment where Vlad kept Danny, I was breathing heavily. The sound of my breathing worried me. I sounded like some asthma patient in disparate need of his inhaler.

I leaned against the wall and pressed the button to make it slide open. With a soft whine, it did. The window appeared, the brightly lit white room and the machine in the corner. The Cramtastic Plasmius. Sitting in front of it, one Danny Fenton. Did that boy never sleep?

I looked at him. I could only see part of his face. The helmet of the machine was on his head, the wires from the extra electrodes ran down his back. Dark circles under his eyes. He was staring straight ahead at the screen of the Cramtastic Plasmius. Sleep deprivation. Vlad was trying to break him. He must still be resisting then. I felt a twinge of hope. Danny would be salvageable.

I pressed the button to open the door and stepped inside the room. I hadn't noticed it the first time I was in there, but it's familiarity struck me now. I had been in here at one time. Vlad had had me sitting here, watching the screen on the rapid learning device. I swallowed. This was where he had made me into Danny Fenton. Here, he had erased the real me and had replaced me with a foreign identity. I approached Danny and leaned over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.

_Daniel, catch!_

_I laughed, braced myself and caught the brown football with ease. Then I lifted it up, ran a few paces, aimed, and threw it back at my father. He ran in the direction it would land. I laughed even harder when it became obvious he wouldn't make it. Then, while running, the two black rings appeared around father's waist, turning him into Plasmius. He jumped up in the air, shot forward and caught the ball._

"_Hey!" I shouted, "You're cheating!"_

A glitch. Static. Wiggly lines.

_Daniel, catch!_

_..._

The whole scene played out again, but I didn't need to see it. I knew this. Somewhere, buried deep inside of me, was the actual memory that was on the screen repeated over and over to Danny, trying to burn itself into his mind. I couldn't quite reach it. One thing was for sure though, Vlad had never called me Daniel. It had always been D17.

Letting out a frustrated growl, I reached over and yanked the wires of the helmet out of the machine. Then, as the scene kept playing, I walked around it and simply unplugged it. I approached Danny again and carefully lifted the helmet from his head. He didn't move.

I waved my hand in front of his face. "Hey, Danny!" No reaction. "Hey, wake up, I'm getting you out of here."

The blank look in his eyes scared me a little. I shook him lightly. He resisted. Good. I stepped in front of him, grabbed his head and forced him to look at me.

"Get up, Danny," I said, "I'm getting you out of here, but you have to listen to me."

The blank look in his eyes shifted. He was now looking at me. Blinked once, twice. Then suddenly, he jumped up and backed away from me until his back hit the wall.

"Stay away from me," he whispered.

"Come on, Danny..."

"No..."

"We have to go. Vlad could come back any minute now. Come on, I opened the door, we can just walk out..."

"No..." He was looking around frantically now. "Where is father," he said. Confusion spread on his face. "Father..."

My heart sank. The annoyance with him, which up until now I had successfully suppressed, surfaced again. How dare he call _my_ father 'father'...

I stepped forward, grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "He's not your father," I hissed, "He's _my_ father. You stay away from him. You're getting out of here, you go back to your friends and your sister. I'll stay here. Father will save me."

It was very unfortunate that I was ill. Before, I had been stronger than him. Vlad obviously had kept me in excellent shape. Danny was thin, lanky. Still, he pushed me away easily, and I went down. When I tried to get up, I found myself in a painful coughing fit. Stars danced before my eyes, my vision darkened. Pain like I'd never felt before tore through me, and for a moment I was sure I was being ripped apart from the inside. I couldn't breathe.

Hands on my shoulders, shaking me softly. I felt it, even though I was sure I had somehow split in two separate parts. There was me, my head, my slipping consciousness, and there was the rest of my body, which I didn't have too much to do with anymore. The pain eased. I had to be dead... then why did I still feel those hands on my shoulders?

My eyes opened. A face, my face, blurry. Looking worried and confused. Then he backed away. I wanted to say something, but the only sound I managed was a soft rasp. I was breathing though.

This was not the way to go. I couldn't stay here, not like this. I had to get Danny out first. Once Vlad found out Danny was gone, was out of his reach, he had to help me. I would be the only thing left to him. I was sure he would help me.

Slowly, I pushed myself on my knees and looked up, blinking a few times to clear the tears from my eyes. Danny was standing again, looking at me. His face twitched. For a moment, understanding flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone and the blank look returned. He looked up at the window.

"Father," he said, "Where are you? Please help me..."

I hung my head. I was wrong. He was too far gone. He really believed Vlad was his father now. I despaired for a moment. I couldn't force him out. Physically, I was a mess. Ghost powers, nonexistent. And Vlad could return any moment now. I couldn't convince him to walk out on his own.

I took a deep breath and reached. For almost a week, I hadn't done this. It wasn't there. I closed my eyes, balled my fists and clenched my jaws. It had to work. This was my last chance. I couldn't get out of the lab anymore, in fact, I probably couldn't get up from the floor anymore unless I made this work.

The white rings appeared. I groaned. My face twisted into a snarl and I made them separate. Now the cold feeling started creeping over me, excruciatingly slowly, transforming my body to ectoplasm. When I was about halfway done, I not only had to concentrate on completing the transformation, but also on keeping myself together. I could feel the energy seeping away from me, green ectoplasm dripping on the floor from various wounds and cracks that appeared on my unstable body all by themselves.

This had better work.

When the transformation finally completed, I looked up again at Danny's stunned face. He seemed at loss what to do. But I knew what I had to do. I just didn't know if I still had the power to do it.

I was melting. Whatever had been keeping me together was gone. Green ectoplasm dripped on the floor beneath me as I hovered a few inches above it. I had trouble moving, and when I looked down, I saw that my feet were gone. My legs ended just below the knees, two useless stumps that were leaking, _dripping_, a soft splat, splat sounding ridiculously loud in the quiet lab, on the floor. Suddenly I knew, _knew_, that if I transformed back into my human counterpart, I would no longer have feet.

I looked up. Danny was staring at me, a terrified look on his face. But he still wasn't moving. And then a sound, coming from the lab. Footsteps on the stairs. Vlad was coming back.

"No," I whispered.

Or tried to whisper. It came out as a gurgle. I no longer had a face. My eyes... I wanted to touch them, but my hands were just green globs. For a moment, I was paralyzed, overwhelmed by the memory of the other melting clones, the puddles of ectoplasm, the despair in their eyes as they realized what was happening to them... despair I was feeling now. I couldn't keep myself together. My eyes would be the last to go. I had to move _now_.

"Sorry, Danny," I thought, turning myself intangible and diving into his body.


	22. Chapter 22

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN**

**Chapter 22**

* * *

I moved my hands. Solid hands. Flexed my fingers, looked at them, noted the lines on them, the scratch on my thumb. Then down. Feet. Beautiful feet. I was standing with my two bare feet which felt wonderful on the smooth white floor. I felt the cold tiles. Slowly, I looked up.

"_Hey!_"

Something pushed me, pushed against my consciousness, tried to push me out. I pushed back. I couldn't let him take charge now, he'd run right to Vlad, turn himself in, and we'd be back where we started.

"Danny, stop it!" I thought, "I'll get you out of here, and then I'll get out of you! Just let me do this, don't resist!"

"_Get out get out get out get out...!_"

My knees buckled and I fell down, only just managing to catch myself on the edge of the table. Without me giving the order, my right hand went up to my throat. My vision darkened.

"No!" I thought, "Danny, please! You need to get out of here!"

I was being pushed. Frantically, I tried to hold on, clawing both my hands in my throat, leaving red scratch marks. At the other side of the lab, I heard Vlad reach the bottom of the stairs. Danny wanted to scream, wanted to warn father, but I still had control over his vocal chords. The only thing he managed to do was let out a strangled groan.

"Danny!" I mentally yelled at him.

I did the only thing I could think of. I sent him a mental image of Sam, along with the memory of kissing her, sitting on my bed, my arms around her. The feel of her warm body pressed against mine. The taste of her lips...

"_You bastard."_

He let go then. My vision cleared. I was leaning against the table. The door was still open. I turned us invisible and rushed out, just in time to see Vlad rushing over, an alarmed expression on his face. I stepped aside before he could bump into me and he brushed past me, into the room.

This was just too good to be true. He had just entered a shielded room, a room Danny had been unable to escape from. He had tried, in the beginning. A memory surfaced, not mine but Danny's, of throwing himself/myself against the wall, blasting the door, trying to transform into Phantom but unable to because of the strong ghost shield. It had held him inside. It would hold Vlad as well, hold him until I got Danny out. Then he'd help me. I grabbed the door and slammed it closed. Too late.

The moment Vlad had entered the room, he must have realized he walked right into a trap. He grabbed the closing door with his right hand just as it was about to close and yelled in pain when it got caught between the door and the door frame. I stumbled backwards, eyes wide, as Vlad opened the door and glared at me.

"How did you get out," he grumbled.

My mouth went dry. _Father..._

"F-father," I stuttered. I straightened, avoiding his eyes by looking at his shoes. "I'm sorry, father. The door was open."

He frowned, turned around to look at the door, but quickly turned back again. "You were trying to escape."

I stepped back. Inside my head, Danny started struggling again. I did not need that. It was hard enough to resist the urge to throw myself at Vlad's feet, begging for mercy. Danny agreed with that, vehemently arguing that Vlad was his father, our father, we should obey him. My resolve faltered. I had known it'd be a bad idea to face Vlad... father.

"_Come on, let me say I'm sorry..." _

He started pushing again, angrily. With a mental slap in the face, I quieted him down and managed to regain at least partial control.

"N-n-no father," I said. It wasn't hard to pretend to fear the man, to pretend to be submissive. Not hard at all.

He advanced on me, his eyes glowing a menacing red. He would capture me – us – and put us in that room again. Once inside, we'd never get out. Vlad would watch me melt and then put me in a jar, just like D16... Somewhere inside of me I noticed a mental 'huh' at that thought, and I felt Danny shift through my memories to find that particular event, which brought about a whole set of other painful memories I didn't need.

"Stop that," I growled, and then could have slapped myself because I said that out loud.

Anger flashed in Vlad's eyes. He obviously thought I was talking to him. No need to enlighten him though. Only one thing left to do. I reached with all my might.

A blinding flash, a cold slamming through me, a sense of incredible power rushing through my body. Ectoplasm accumulated at my hands instinctively, and I held it back for a moment, reveling in the sheer power of it. Then I let go. The bright green flare slammed right into Vlad's chest. Bullseye. I laughed, giddy with all that power, the power I had missed so much. And Danny had so much of it too, so much more than I ever had.

"_You hit father!_"

I had. Guiltily, I looked at where he had landed. His black suit was smoking. Had I killed him? Had I killed the only father I had ever known? I floated closer to where he lay and looked down... and was blasted by a huge pink ectoblast. It had me hurling across the basement, bouncing off the ceiling because I didn't have the sense to go intangible in time and then crashing into the enormous computer screen that made up the back wall of the basement. Ouch.

I laid there for a moment, stunned. Then another blast headed my way and I hastily put up a half formed shield, managing to partly deflect the blast. The part that did get through hit me in the stomach and I doubled over. Inside me, Danny squirmed. I could feel him wanting me to give up, to transform, to yield.

"Shut up," I snarled at him, while evading another blast and letting out one of my own, "Think about Sam, and Jazz, and Tucker. They're waiting for you. Let me handle this."

That shut him up. I could actually almost hear him ponder his friends and sister, and what they meant to him. It was annoying and distracting. I dodged another blast and was hit by one that immediately followed it. Time to leave. I looked around frantically to get my bearings. Vlad, I saw, had transformed too, and was now floating in the middle of the basement, his hands glowing menacingly.

The basement looked like a war zone. The once spotlessly clean tables and shelves were now covered with grime and soot, and something was burning on the other side of the lab, producing thick black smoke. I gathered as much power in my hands as I could, constructing a huge sizzling green ecto ball, and hurled it, not at Vlad, but at the array of computers standing next to the entrance of the white room Vlad had kept Danny in. I saw Vlad move as if to dodge the blast, then realize it wasn't aimed at him at all and then the wild expression on his face when he dashed forward to place himself in front of the computers to take the blast. I didn't wait to see the result. I shot up towards the ceiling, turned myself intangible this time and moved through the various walls all the way out of the house.

Once outside, I hovered for a moment, then slowly drifted to the trees. I landed under a huge oak tree, and let the two familiar white rings travel over my body, turning me human once more. Then I sat down, my back against the tree. This had been the easy part. The hard part had yet to come.

"Danny?" I said, speaking out loud. My voice sounded hoarse.

Silence for a moment. Then, "_Yeah?_"

"How are you doing?"

I watched the house, and I felt him watch it with me. It was a really strange feeling. The both of us were looking through his eyes.

"_OK I guess."_ He seemed to think for a moment, and I caught the gist of his tumbling emotions. "_I'm... confused. What happened to f... Vlad?"_

"I don't know."

The house remained dark.

"_Is he dead?"_

An orange glow suddenly flared through the curtains of one of the windows on the right, but disappeared again. I thought I heard some rumbling coming from the house, as if something was collapsing, but it was soft. I couldn't be sure.

"Maybe," I said.

Maybe Vlad really was dead. Which meant I was too. A fleeting moment I thought about reentering the house to try and look for him, but that was all it was: a thought. I never really thought he would help me, even if he could. I'd been fooling myself.

"_I hope so."_

I was startled at the sudden venom in his voice, my voice. Then I smiled sadly. The old Danny had returned. I had been afraid he too would want to go back into the house to save Vlad, but obviously he had no intention of doing that. I needed to get out of him, return him to my... his friends.

"_Wait_."

"What?" I said tiredly, "I promised Sam I'd return you to her..."

I swallowed and tried to suppress the jealousy that suddenly threatened to overwhelm me. Or was it his jealousy? Were we both jealous of each other and were our emotions amplifying each other? For a moment, my vision darkened and I grimaced. Then he managed to control his emotions and stomp them down. His mind seemed to be getting clearer by the minute.

"_What will happen to you when you get out? What are you gonna do?_"

That was something I really didn't want to think about. I remembered my feet, how they had disappeared. When I got out, I had to make sure they were there when I transformed back to my human half. I was contemplating that when a thought hit me, a thought I was sure wasn't mine. _Why not get into the ghost zone. I was fine there before, when we went to see Clockwork._ Only Danny had never gone to see Clockwork. He couldn't know that. Could he? He accessed my memories before...

"Why the concern?" I asked, suspicious and a little fearful, "It's not like you like me or anything."

"_I don't want to see another clone melt ever again. Do you know how many nightmares I've had about that?_"

"Yeah..." I shuddered.

For a moment, we both lost ourselves in the image of melting clones, dripping ectoplasm, a desperate hand reaching out, eyes holding a wordless scream. Of course, I had the questionable privilege of experiencing some of it first hand. Danny shuddered and then forcefully pushed his and my memories away. I rubbed my – his – arms, trying to dispel the goosebumps that had appeared.

"Will you take me?" I asked. I doubted I would be able to get up once I transformed back into my own human part.

"_Sure. Now get out!"_

I gathered myself and moved. Or tried to move. Ectoplasm was running through my veins, Danny's veins, merged with his body. I just needed to form my own body again, go intangible and move out. I had done it without a second thought almost a week ago with Dash. Why was it so hard now?

"_Move_!"

"I'm trying!" I grumbled.

I still had control over his voice. Then I felt him push. My vision darkened. I no longer had eyes. I wanted to cry out in pain, but I couldn't. No voice. Desperately, I tried to find myself, find my body, or what was left of it, but I no longer had the strength. The struggle drained me. I tried to warn Danny, tried to tell him to stop pushing but he didn't hear me or didn't want to listen. He wanted me out.

My vision cleared. I... we were on our hands and knees, panting. A sob rose in our throat.

"You're melting," Danny choked, "_Inside of me!_"

He moved his hands. I felt him move his hands, but I no longer had control. Tentatively, I touched his brain.

"Stay away from me!" he shouted.

"Danny," I thought, "I'm sorry..."

"You bastard," he panted, "You knew this would happen! You're trying to steal my body!"

"No!" I mentally yelled.

No? It was tempting though. He had a strong body and an incredible amount of power... it could all be mine. I'd be powerful. Vlad would love me. Sam would love me...

"Sam doesn't love you," Danny said.

I panicked. I lashed out at him. I pounded his brain, pushed, screamed, hammered against his memories, my memories, our memories. I made him fall down on the ground, made him thrash violently, kicking at the bushes and trees. When he tried to scream I wrapped his hands around his throat to quiet him down – I didn't want my sister and my friends come running at his screams.

And then I was falling. The darkness was complete, I was weightless, alone. I looked at my hands, which for some reason I could see, then down at my body. I was there. I was nowhere. I was also in my ghost form. Had Danny managed to push me out? Why couldn't I see?

"Danny?"

My voice sounded strangely muffled. At least I had a voice. Just as I had resigned myself to falling, I hit the ground. I landed with a thud on some dark, rocky surface. It didn't hurt. One moment, I was falling, the next moment, I wasn't. I sat up and looked around. Still darkness around me, but now, when I looked up, I thought I could see stars. Where was I?

"Now what."

My voice, but not me talking. I turned around.

"Hi," Danny said.

He was standing about ten feet away from me, no longer wearing that dull gray tank top and those gray sweat pants, but instead clad in his usual attire, jeans and a white t-shirt with a red oval on it. He looked better than he had before too, not as thin, but he still had those dark circles under his eyes. I looked at him, then at the sky.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," he said.

He closed his eyes for a moment and frowned in concentration. The scenery changed. The rocky ground became soft green grass, trees materialized, the dark 'sky' turned blue. Buildings in the distance, high rises, roads, free of traffic. Danny cocked his head. Birds began singing. Other than that, it was quiet. He opened his eyes and smiled.

"Nice, huh," he said.

I was silent. He waved his hands. "Like it?"

I shook my head. "You can't keep me in here forever," I said.

It was my turn to close my eyes. Red, I thought. I pushed. Something pushed back. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky. It was no longer blue, but it wasn't red either. It looked more like purple. Sam would have loved it. I looked at Danny and he was scowling at me.

"Look," he said, "This is my body. I don't want you in here. You tried to take my life, my family, my friends..."

Good thing he didn't know what else I tried to do. The memory of Jack trying to fix the ghost portal flashed through me. It was then that I remembered that Danny had access to my thoughts. His face contorted in anger.

"You tried to kill my father?!" he shouted.

Before I knew it he was on top of me and grabbed me by the throat. I fought back, but his fury gave him strength. He pushed me on the ground and continued choking me.

"You know," I wheezed, "I don't think you can kill me here..."

"I can try," he growled.

I kicked him in the groin and he gasped in pain. The moment I felt his grip loosen, I wrenched myself away from him and scrambled backwards until my back hit a tree. Surprised, I looked up. The thing actually had substance. Some illusion.

Danny stopped moaning and looked at me. I stared back.

"We don't have much of a choice," I said.

Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet. "_I_ do," he said, "Stay away from me. Don't interfere. I will find a way to get you out of here."

"I'll die."

"I. Don't. Care."

In the blink of an eye, he was gone. I remained where I was. The scenery seemed unreal now, slowly fading. Danny could only hold up the illusion if he was there. When he was gone, I was free. Sort of. I took a deep, virtual breath and tried to extend my senses. My hands, my feet, my eyes. No, his hands, feet, eyes. He was on the move, slowly making his way through the trees and the undergrowth in Vlad's extensive garden. He knew where to go. My memories told him exactly where Jazz, Sam and Tucker would be waiting. I chuckled.

"Stop that," he growled.

I remained quiet after that. A few minutes later, Danny phased through the fence, right behind Jazz, who was pacing the road in front of her car. Sam and Tucker were sitting on the hood, a sure sign on how worried Jazz was. Normally, we were hardly allowed to touch her car.

"Hi," Danny said, turning tangible and visible again.

Jazz swirled. Sam and Tucker jumped up. Then they froze.

"Who are you?" Jazz asked.

"Oh," Danny said, "Right. You think I'm D17..."

"You could be," Sam said. She studied him. "You don't look like him..."

He didn't, of course. I had looked like the Danny before his capture. Vlad had cut his hair and had provided him with those very unfashionable gray clothes. Which, I had to admit, could all be easily faked by one evil clone D17 to make them believe I was for real this time. There was one thing, however, I couldn't fake, and Sam knew it too. She took two steps and lifted his shirt.

"Hey!" Danny said indignantly. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it down again. "What was that all about.?"

Helpfully, I supplied him with the image of looking down at my chest and abdomen, the dark bruising which should have healed within a few days, but instead got worse and worse. He swallowed, and for a short moment I felt a twinge of sympathy flash through him.

"The clone didn't look too good," Tucker said, "He was falling apart and it showed." He grinned. "Of course, it could be that Sam just wanted to see those nice abs.."

"Tucker!" both Danny and Sam yelled.

I chuckled. Then Sam hugged him and I was lost. Memories washed over me, over Danny, of holding her and kissing her. I felt him hug her back, wrapping his arms around her, moving his hands on her back. He bend down his head as if moving to kiss her and then he froze.

"Hey!" I thought, annoyed, "Why are you stopping now?"

"Shut up." He was getting very good in the mentally quieting me down thing while doing something else, "_You_ kissed her. I never did. She'll know you're in here. She might even think you stole my body."

He let go of her and gave her a pained smile. Sam stepped back and wrapped her arms around her. "I'm glad you're back," she said.

I heard in her voice both her genuine joy that the real Danny was alive and well, and the sadness of a lost dream. I kicked Danny and he kicked back. At least I made her happy for a while, I thought smugly, and of course Danny heard that.

"Shut up," he said, "We have to be careful. They can't suspect you're here, or they'll never trust me again. And I'm not gonna make out with Sam with you watching, in any case."

Evilly, I presented him with some mental images, and he groaned.

"What happened to D17?" Jazz asked. She looked pale and distraught.

I felt Danny wince. "He melted," he said truthfully. My turn to wince.

Jazz, Tucker and Sam looked slightly disgusted at that.

"You mean, he died?" Sam asked.

She actually sounded a bit sad. Suddenly, I felt sad too. And ashamed. I had deceived her, and she was the one paying for it. She had thought Danny loved her, and now that I took a closer look at him, his feelings, his memories to which I had a surprisingly clear access, I found that he in fact did like her very much, but that he had never dared to act on his feelings because he thought she didn't like him like that, and he didn't want to lose her friendship. I hadn't had those inhibitions.

"No," Danny said, and I don't know how he did it but he managed to scowl inwardly at me, "he _melted_. He still exists. He's just a green glob."

"Thank you very much," I thought. I could scowl too.

"That's gross," Tucker said.

Jazz didn't say anything. I wondered about that and so did Danny. We were practically waiting for her to start her psycho-analyzing Danny about his ordeal, but instead she turned and started walking to her car.

"Let's go," she said, "It's late."

Danny, Sam and Tucker looked at each other and shrugged. Time to go. They followed her into her car and together they drove to Sam's house, whose parents weren't home so no awkward questions would be asked. The next day, they would sort out the various lies they'd been telling, mostly to Danny's parents. Explaining the hair was going to be interesting, as his mother was always complaining to him about getting it cut.

It was nearly three thirty when the four of them settled down in Sam's room, Sam in her own bed and Danny, Tucker and Jazz on mattresses and sleeping bags on the floor. They chatted for a while, Sam, Tucker and Jazz subtly trying to interrogate Danny about what had happened to him during the past weeks, and Danny craftily avoiding answering their questions. I could see why. It hadn't been pleasant.

After a while, they all fell silent, and I could hear their regular breathing, signifying they were all asleep. All except Danny. He was staring at the ceiling, fighting to keep his eyes open, even though he was dead tired. He hadn't slept in days.

"Hey," I said, "Get some sleep."

"Shut up."

He blinked. He was laying very still, his body tense as if ready for an attack. An attack from me, I realized. He was afraid to go to sleep, afraid I'd take over. I considered that. I shouldn't. It'd be unfair.

Life was unfair.

His thoughts became incoherent, a swirl of random images and feelings. His eyes closed. He was falling asleep despite his efforts. Tentatively, I reached. Maybe, when he slept... but then I pulled back. I had made a lot of mistakes in my short life. Now that I thought about it, my whole life had been one big mistake. I should let go.

For while, I listened to the sounds of the breathing in the room. For two weeks, these had been my friends, my sister. I hardly remembered anything from my life before that, only the fake memories Vlad had put there. I was part of Danny's life now, but it was his life, not mine. I never had a life.

I cried.

Then I let go.

* * *

_Alright, pie for DPCrazy, spiritmind675, Tears Falling Freely and Cordria because they all mentioned the correct ending!  
_

_I still need to write the epilogue. Which, knowing me, will take forever because once a story is finished I tend to turn my mind to other projects. Don't hesitate to threaten me when it takes too long._


	23. Epilogue

* * *

**SMOKESCREEN  
**

**Epilogue**

* * *

My name is Danny Fenton. Daniel James Fenton, but I prefer Danny. I'm not sure what I should tell about myself, somehow the things that I can tell about me don't sound all that interesting. So let's start with the statistics. I was born in Amity Park on July 23rd, nineteen ninety. Which makes me almost sixteen years old. I attended Clarkson elementary school, Elm Street middle school and now I'm in Casper High school, tenth grade. I'm an average student.

My mother is Madeline Hayes, my father Jack Fenton. I have a sister, Jasmine, who is a genius, which can get annoying at times. Still sounds very normal and maybe a bit boring. Until I tell you what my parents do for a living. Because that's where all normalcy ends.

My parents hunt ghosts. And up until almost two years ago, everybody laughed at them. And at me. My sister simply denied their existence. They blundered around Amity Park with their ecto guns and the GAV (yes, Ghost Assault Vehicle). They were a total embarrassment.

And then the ghosts showed up. Which may or may not have something to do with the ghost portal they built. It has a door now, so ghosts can't get through, but in the beginning they caused ghosts to flood the town.

Now, when I tell people who my parents are, they no longer laugh. They may frown, tell me they are a menace to society, but never that they can't hunt ghosts because ghosts don't exist. Everybody has seen them.

As I'm writing this down, I'm realizing that it seems like I don't have a life of my own. Sure, my parents raised me, fed me, took me places, but I'm not only defined by my parents. I have friends, two very good friends, whom I trust implicitly. They'd literally throw themselves in harms way to save me, and I would do the same for them. One is Tucker Foley, self proclaimed techno geek extra-ordinaire and meat connoisseur. And in complete contrast with him, Sam (Samantha, don't ever call her that) Manson, ultra-recyclo vegetarian. Basically that means she doesn't eat anything with a face.

All these things, statistics, names, places, they tell something about me, and yet they tell you nothing of who I am, what I'm thinking, why I'm doing the things I do and the way I do them. You can only know people by their actions, by the way they treat other people. I always try to help others, try to be a good friend, but I won't deny that I can be a bit selfish at times. Luckily my friends forgive me for that.

These were my friends, my family. I have enemies. I won't go into them. I refuse to let them rule my life, but I know they have a deep impact on me. And even my enemies somehow define who I am, if only to remind me that I should never stoop to their level. I learned the hard way that taking the easy way out is not the answer.

This is my life. I have told you everything. And yet, I've told you nothing.

_Mr Fenton, I had some trouble with your essay. Not the contents, but the language, the unusual eloquence you used made me question author of this. However, both miss Manson and your sister assured me that they hadn't helped you, that you and you only wrote the words, which, in absence of evidence suggesting otherwise, I will accept. Congratulations. You deserved the A._

_Edward Lancer._

* * *

The park, a rare cloudy day. Not many people about, obviously put off by the fact that it isn't as sunny a day as it has been for the past weeks. Still, a nice day. Not warm, not cold. The grass on the hill is yellow from the dry spell that accompanied the exceptional good weather. It still doesn't rain though. No need to move from my spot, overlooking the park, the high buildings in the distance. The sound of traffic drowns any sound a bird may have made. I can imagine it though, I know I can. I can block out the cars, turn the sky blue, add in birds singing. The only thing I have to do is close my eyes, and I'm there.

Alone.

I don't know where he is. I haven't heard from him since that night, the night he rescued me, the night he tried to take over my body. I try not to think about that last part too much. He came close. Too close. I had to fight him with everything I had, and I finally managed to push him into my illusion, a place I controlled, my imagined, quiet hill in the park.

It had been scary to look at him. It was like looking at myself in the mirror, except I knew that I didn't look like myself anymore at that time. I'll never forget the look on my mother's face when she saw the extremely short hair on my head. I had mumbled something about wanting a change and she had left it alone.

I rub my hand over the back of my head, almost used to the short stubble there. It's starting to grow again, thankfully. I can't wait to get rid of this reminder of my two weeks in Vlad's room, the exhaustion, the pain and finally the utter confusion. When I think of Vlad now, I have to consciously remind myself that he is in fact _not_ my father. And it hurts. I'm insanely glad that he didn't die when his house collapsed, but I don't dare show that to anybody. He's been keeping to himself the past week, and I'm glad. I don't want to face him.

Sighing, I pull the essay out of my backpack again. Again, I read it, word for word, sentence by sentence, a description of my life, written in a way I could never write it. Written by the clone. My hands, these hands, were not the hands that held the pen, pressed it onto the paper, caused the ink to form words, sentences, a story.

Yet I remember writing it.

It's been a week. My friends are treading around me with great care, treating me as if I'm made of porcelain, treating me like I could break at any time. Jazz in particular is very annoying in that respect. She seems to think I need to talk about what happened to me, and she thinks she qualifies as my confident, my shrink. Personally, I think she feels guilty about the way she treated _him_.

"_You're dying anyway."_

The words echo in my mind, and for a moment I close my eyes and retreat into what has become my sanctuary over the past week, the same hill I'm sitting on now, only without the annoying sounds. It's a nice place to be. I wish I had found it years ago. It would have made being shoved into my locker only half as annoying.

I can't talk to Jazz. In fact, I can't talk to anyone. I can't tell them what is on my mind, what I'm afraid of, why I have been standing in my parents' lab, staring at the Fenton Ghost Catcher, wondering what would happen should I pass through it. Because he's still inside of me, I know it. I just don't know where he is. I didn't do it though. I'm not sure which part I'd be splitting off of me and besides, the last time I tried it was a total disaster.

I open my eyes and real life presses down on me again. The noise of the traffic suddenly seems obnoxiously loud. I hear an airplane pass over, having just taken off from Amity Park Airport, taking a turn right above the park. And then there is movement at the edge of the park, two familiar figures entering through the gate, looking around frantically and finally spotting me on top of the hill. They start climbing in my direction. It'll only take them a few minutes to reach me. Time to get myself together again, to pull out Danny Fenton, the original one, smile, joke, slack, play games, make a general mess of my room, my life. They don't know, they can't know for sure, that I'm not completely him anymore.

Yet they know something is up.

I think, I hope, they write it off on the traumatic experience of being captured by Vlad, tormented with his machine, sleep deprivation, the occasional beating when I tried to escape. It's not that though. Not that it wasn't traumatic. I still have nightmares almost every night about being trapped in that room, of the darkness that enclosed me in the end, the fog in my brain, the memories that slipped away from me, to be replaced by fake ones.

But, chilling as that may sound, I'm used to those. Nightmares. I have them, I deal with them. It comes with the job of being Amity Park's ghostly defender. Ghosts are scary, but in a normal way. I do not fear the nightmares. They'll pass.

What scares me is that I'm acing math.

Sam and Tucker are halfway up the hill now, Tucker panting noticeably, Sam walking easily. Both are glaring at me. I slipped away from them again, skipped out on our usual after school Nasty Burger hanging out, to come here and try to find some peace of mind. I should stop doing it, but I can't. I can't act _all_ the time.

Looking at Sam is killing me. Every time she is near me I want to wrap my arms around her, and it takes a conscious effort not to. I've always liked Sam, but in a sort of distant, "she's my best friend so don't touch" kind of way. If it'd be up to me, I'd never make a move. The clone made me realize how much I like her. And now she's out of reach. If I make a move on her now, she'll know. Because neither she nor Tucker told me what had happened between her and the clone.

I remember kissing her.

I clench my fists and tear out some dry grass, no doubt earning me a lecture from Sam on the importance of being kind to all growing things. I shiver for a moment when Undergrowh slips into my mind, which then triggers the image of Sam in a scant green dress. I really should stop doing this.

She drops down next to me, slinging her spider backpack on the ground. Tucker keeps standing, his hands on his knees, panting. I don't say anything.

"Why did you skip out on us again?" Sam asks.

There is concern in her voice, and confusion. I reach inside my backpack and pull out the battered Fenton Thermos I'm always carrying around.

"Ghost," I say.

I'm not lying, not really. There really is a ghost in there, the Box Ghost to be precise. It just isn't the reason I'm up here. I look at her, and again resist the urge to raise my hand to wipe a few stray strands out of her face, or to drown myself in her eyes. And I can look right through her too. She's happy that I'm back, but she's longing for the closeness she had to the clone. I look down at the ground to hide the sudden rage I feel, the jealousy of him, the other me, the me that is still inside of me somewhere.

The me that is also me.

Because I think I know what he did. I think he didn't mean to, I think he really thought he was giving himself up, that he would die and I would live on as myself. But something remained, something that nested itself inside my consciousness, my brain, my very being. No matter how I look at it, I can't deny the fact that there is something different about me now. I know my friends see it, I know my sister sees it, and I think even my parents see it. I am no longer the son they knew, or thought they knew. I try to be. But I'm not.

I'm not the clone either. Sure, I have his memories, both the vague ones about living with Vlad, calling him father, believing he is my father, and the time he spent thinking and later pretending he was Danny Fenton. I still feel the bile rise in my throat when I think of Vlad telling me, him, that he wasn't really Danny, that he was a clone, and a defected one at that. I remember his agony and I can't hate him, not anymore.

Because I remember the melting, the horrifying feeling of it, the falling apart. And at the same time, dizzyingly overlaying that memory, another one, watching me melt, seeing the ectoplasm dripping from wounds, cracks that appeared all by themselves.

I push myself off the ground and get up. Tucker straightens, having finally caught his breath. Sam smiles at me and I gallantly hold out my hand to help her up, mentally crossing my fingers she won't call me a chauvinist pig. She doesn't. Instead, she smiles and lets me pull her up on her feet. I grin at her.

"Race ya to the ice cream vendor," I say, taking off.

Sam yelps and sets off after me, never one to back down on a challenge. She'll overtake me about halfway down, I think. Both of us ignore Tucker's indignant yelling from the top of the hill.

Wind blows in my face. The speed is exhilarating. I laugh.

I'm neither Danny nor D17. I'm both.

I am Danny Fenton.

* * *

_Done! Hurray! Sorry about the wait. I had this finished on Tuesday but then Angst Day came along._

_Pay no attention to Danny's date of birth I'm mentioning at the beginning. Since the show, as far as I know, started airing in 2004 and Danny was 14 at that time, I'm assuming his birth year to be 1990._

_Sincere thanks to:_

_TexasDreamer01, Luiz4200, inukagome15, Ocean's Nocturne of the COCA, Miriam1, Rakahn, DPcrazy, Rya Starling, spiritmind675, skitzofrenic, Invader Johnny, Cordria, Tears Falling Freely, RenesmeeScarlet, Mary Blondine, Garnet Sky, Secret Spy Guy, BleachPhantom, SH Aerrow's Girl, dizappearingirl, dessyweird5, xXAnimeKittenXx1, New Ghost Girl, TexasDreamer01, Thunderstorm101, enderverse, Chatter Puncher, Thouqhts-of-Nothinqness, Neko Danny, Koppella, Wishes for Wings, TPcrazy, Shining Zephyr, Spidery, Katie B 17, Kybo, Catadmin, pearl84,_

_because they took the time to review one or more chapters (I hope I didn't forget anybody). Reviews make my day._


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